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MASON 
ON SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



MELMOTH'S 

GREAT IMPORTANCE OF A RELIGIOUS 
LIFE, CONSIDERED. 



DODSLEY'S 
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 



LONDON: 



1834. 



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y J.F. DoYfi, St. JoWs Square. 



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A 

TREATISE 
oir 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



PART I.— CHAP. I. 
The nature avid mportance itf the Subject. 

A DESIRE of knowledge k natural to all human 
minds. And nothing discovers the true quali^ 
and disposition of the mind more than the particu- 
lar kind of knowledge it is most fond of. 

Thus we see, that low and little minds are most 
delighted with the knowledge of trifles, as in chil- 
dren ; an indolent mind, with that which serves 
only for amusement, or the entertainment of the 
fancy ; a curious mind is best pleased with facts ; 
a judicious, penetrating mind, with demonstratioi^ 
and mathematical science ; a worldly mind esteems 
no knowledge like that of the world ; but a wise 
and pious man, before all other kinds of knowledge, . 
prefers that of Qtyd and his own soul. 

But some kind of knowledge or other the mind 
is continually craving after, and after: a farther pro- 
ficiency in. And, by considering what kind of 
knowledge it most of all desires, its prevailing turn 
and temper may easily be known. 

This desire of knowledge, like other affections 



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4 A TREATISE ON 

planted in our nature^ 'will be veiy apt to lead us 
wrong, if it j)e not, well regulated. When it is di- 
rected to improper ol^ects, or pursued in an impro- 
per manner, it degenerates into a vain and criminal 
curiosity. A fatal instance of this in our first pa- 
rents we have upon sacred record, the unhappy ef- 
fects of which are but too visible in all. 

Self-knowledge is the subject of the ensuing 
treatise ; a subject, which the more I think of, the 
more important and extensive it appears : so im- 
portant, that every branch of it seems absolutely 
necessary to the right government of the life and 
temper ; and so extensive, that the nearer view 
we take of the several branches of it, more are 
still opening to the view, as necessarily connected 
with it as the other, like what we find in micros- 
copical observations on natural objects. The better 
the glasses, and the nearer the scrutiny, the more 
wonders we explore ; and the more surprising dis- 
coveries we make of certain properties, parts, or 
affections belonging to them, which were never 
before thought of. For, in order to a true self- t 
knowledge, the human mind, with its various I 
powers and operations, must be narrowly inspected, I 
all its secret bendiifgs and doublings displayed; 1 
otherwise our self-acquaintance will be but very ' 
partial and defective, and the heart, after all, will *, 
deceive us. So that, in treating this subject, there ^ 
is no small danger, either of doii^ injury to it^ by 
a slight and superficial inquest, on the one hand, 
or of running into a research too minute and philo- 
sophical for common use, on the other. These two 
extremes I shall keep in my eye, and endeavour to 
keep a middle course between them. ^ 

* Know thyself,' is one of the most useful and I 
comprehensive precepts in the whole moral system. I 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 6 

And it is -well known in how great a veneration 
this maxim was held by the ancients ; and in how 
h^h esteem the duty of self-examination^ as neces* 
sary toit. 

Thales^ the Milesian^ is said to be the first au- 
thor of it; who used to say^ 'that for a man to 
know himself, is the hardest thing in the world/ 
It was afterward adopted by Chylon, the Lacede- 
monian; and is one of those three precepts, which 
Pliny affirms to have been consecrated at I>elphos 
in golden letters. It was afterward greatly admired, 
and frequently used by others, tall at length it ao 
quired the authority of a divine oracle, and was 
supposed to have been given originally by Apollo 
himself. Of which general opinion^ Cicero gives 
us this reason, 'because it hath such a weight of | 
sense and wisdom in it, as appears too great to be I 
attributed to any man/ And this opinion, of its * 
coming originally from Apollo himself, perhaps 
was the reason that it was written, in golden capi- 
tals, over the door of his temple at Delphos. 

And why this excellent precept should not be 
held in as high esteem in the Christian worid, as 
it was in the heathen, is hard to conceive. Hunan 
nature is the same now as it was then ; the heart 
as deceatful, and the necessity of watclUng, know- 
ing, and keeping it, the same. Nor are we less 
assured that this ]^ecept is divine : nay, we have 
a much greater assurance of this than they had. 
They supposed it came down from heaven; we- 
know it did. What they conjectured, we are sure' 
of. For this sacred oracle is dictated to us in a ma«'^ 
nifold light, and explaioed to us in various views, • 
by the Holy Spirit, in that revelation which God , 
hath been pleased to give us, as our guide to duty k 
and happiness; by which, < as in a glass, we may I 

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6 A TREATISE ON 

survey ourselves^ and know what manner of ] 
8on« we are/ 

This discovers ourselves to ns^. pierces into the ^ 
inmost recesses of the mind, strips off every dis* ' 
guise, lays open the inward part, makes a strict 
scrutiny into the very soid and spirit, and critically 
'judges of the thoughts and intents of the heart.' 
It shews us with what exactness and care we are 
to search and try our spirits, examine ouxselvet/ 
and watch our ways, and keep our hearts, in order 
to acquire this important self-science ; which it 
often calls us to do. ' Examine yourselves ; prove 
your own selves ; know you not yourselves? Let 
a man examine himself / 1 Cor. xi« 28. Our Sa- 
viour upbraids his disciples with their self-igno- 
rance, in n^t ' knowing what mining of spirits 
they were of;' Luke ix.55. Ai^ saith the apostle> 
' If a man (through self-ignorance) thinketh him- 
self to be something, when he is nothing, he de- 
ceiveth himself. But let every man prove his 
work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself^ 
and not another ;' Gal. vi. 3, 4. Here we are com- 
manded, instead *of judging others, to judge our- 
selves ; and to avoid the inexcusable rashness of 
condemning others for the very crimes we ourselves 
are guilty of; Rom. ii. 1. 21, 22, which a self-igno- 
rant man is very apt to do ; nay, to be more of- 
fended at a small blemish in another's character, 
than at a greater in his own; which folly, self-ig- 
norance, and hypocrisy, our Saviour, with just se- 
ven^, animadverts upon. Matt. vii. 3—5. 

And what stress was laid upon this under the 
Old Testament dispensation appears sufficiently ' 
from those expressions : — * Keep thy heart with all 
diligence '/ Prov. iv. 23. ' Commune with your 
own heart;' Psal. iv« 4. ' Search me> God^ 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. T 

and know my heart ; tiy me^ and know my thoughts ;' | 
Psal. cxxxiz. 23. ' Examine me, O Lord, and prove/ 
me ; try my reins and my heart ;' Psal. xxvi. 2.1 
' Let us search and try our ways \' Lam. iii. 4*\ 
* Recollect, recollect yourselves, O nation not de- 1 
sired;' Zeph. ii. 1. And all this is necessary to \ 
that self-acquaintance, which is the only proper j 
basis of solid peace. i 

Were mankind but more generally convinced of I 
the importance and necessity of this self-knowledge, i 
Imd possessed with a due esteem for it; did they | 
bat know the true way to attain it ; and, under a 
proper sense of its Excellence, and the fatal effects 
of self-ignoBsnoe, did they but make it their bud* 
ness and study every day to cultivate it ; how soon 
should we find a happy alteration in the manners 
and spirits of men ! But the misery of it is, men 
will not ihmh ; will not employ their thoi^hts in \ 
good earnest about the things which most of all '. 
deserve and demand them. By which unaccount- ' 
able indolence^ obstinacy, and aversion to self-re- 
flection, they are led, blindfold and insensibly, into 
the most dangerous paths of infidelity and wicked- 
ness^ as the Jews were heretofore ; of whose amaz- 
ing ingratitude and apostacy God himself assigns 
this single cause^ 'My people do not consider;' 
Isa.i.3. 

Self-knowledge ia that acquaintance with our-i< 
selves, which shews us what we are, and do, and 
oug^t to be, and do> in order to our living coinfort- ' 
aUy and usefully here, and hapinly hereafter. 
The means of it is self-examination ; the end of it 
self«govermnent> and self-firuition. It principally 
eoDsista in the knowledge of our souls ; which is 
attained by a particular attention to their various 
powers, capacities, passions, inclinations, opera- ' 



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8 A TREATISE OK 

tions, state^ happiness, and temper. For a man's ^ 
soul is properly himself j Matt. xvi< 26. The body 
is but the house, the soul is the tenant that inhabits 
it ; the body is the instrument, the soul the artist h 
that directs it 

This science, which is to be the subject of the 
ensuing treatise, hath these three peculiar proper* 
ties in it, which distinguish it from, and render it 
preferable to, all others. (1.) * It is equally at- 
tainable by all.' It requires no strength of memory, 
no force of genius, no depth of penetration, as many 
other sciences do, to come at a tolerable acquaint- 
ance with them ; which therefore renders them in- 
accessible by the greatest part of manWnd. Nor is 
it placed out of their reach, through a want of oppor- 
tunity, and proper assistance and direction how to 
acquire it, as many other parts of learning are. 
Every one of a common capaci^ hath the oppor- 
tunity and ability to acquire it, if he will but recol- 
lect his rambling thoughts, turn them in upon him- 
self, watch the motions of his heart, and compare 
them with his rule« — (2.) ' It is of equal import- 
ance to all, and of the hi^est importance to every 
one.' Other sciences are suited to the various con- 
ditions of life : some more necessary to some, 
others to others. But this equally concerns everyl 
one that hath an immortal soul, whose final happi-l 
ness he desires and seeks.— (3.) ' Other knowledgeij 
is very apt to make a man vain ; this always keepsM 
him humble/ Nay, it is always for want of thisi 
knowledge that men are vain of that they have.^ 
* Knowledge puffeth up;' 1 Cor. viii. 1. A small 
degree of knowledge oft^ hath this effect on weak 
minds. And the reason why greater attainments | 
in it have not so generally the same effect, is, be- - 
cause they open and eiilarge the views of the mind ^ 



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SELF-KNO\^EDGE. 

so fiar, as to let into it^ at the same time, a good de- 
gree of self-knowledge ; for the more true know' 
ledge a man hath, the more sensible he is of the 
want of it ; 'Which keeps him humble. 

And now, reader, whoever thoa art, whatever [ 
be thy character, station, or distinction in life, if t 
thou art afraid to look into thine heart, and hast | 
no inclination to self-acquaintance, read no farther, i 
lay aside this book ; for thou wilt find nothing here 
that will flatter thy self-esteem, but, perhaps, some- 
thing &at may abate it. But, if thou art desirous 
to cul^vate this important kind of knowledge, and 
to live no longer a stranger to thyself, proceed ; and 
keep thy eye open to thine own image, with what- 
ever unexpected deformity it may present itself to 
thee; and patiently attend, whilst, by divine as- 
sistance, I endeavour to lay open thine own heart 
to thee, and lead thee to the tiue knowledge of thy- 
self^ in the following chapters. 



CHAP. II. 

The teoerai branches of Self-Knowledge, We mutt 
know what aort ofcreaturet we\Kre, and what we 
thaUhe. 

!• That we may have a more distinct and orderly 
view of this' subject, I shall here consider the seve- 
ral branches of self-knowledge, or some of the chief 
particulars wherein it consists. Whereby, perhaps, 
it will appear to be a more copious and comprehen- 
sive science than we imagine. And, 

(1.) To know ourselves, is ' to know and seriously 
consider what sort of creatures We are, and what 
we shall be.' 

1. « What we are.* 

B2 



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10 A TREATISE ON 

Man is a complex beings rptfiepne viro<ncuriQ, a 
tripartite pertoH, or, a compound creature^ made up 
of three distinct parts, our, the body, which is the 
earthy or mortal part of him ; the wuH, which is 
the animal or sensitive part; andtheipwt^^ormsml, 
which is the rational and immortal part Each of 
these three parts have their respective offices as- 
signed them; and a man then acts beccmiing Mm- f 
self, when he kee^M them duly employed in their I 
proper functions, and preserves their natural suber- I 
dination. But it is not enough to know this merely ^ 
as a point of speculation; we most pursue and re- ' 
volve the thought, and urge the consideratioa to all { 
the purposes of a practical self-knowledge. I 

We axe not all body, nor mere animal creatores; 
We find we have a more noble nature than the in- 
animate or brutal part of the creation. 'We can 
not only move *and act freely, but we observe in 
ourselves a capacity of reflection, study, and foi«» 
cast, and various mental operations, which irra- 
tional minds discover no symptoms of. Our souls, 
therefore, must be of a more excellent nature than 
theirs ; and, from the power of thought with which 
they are endowed, they are proved to be immaterial 
substances, and consequently, in their own nature, 
capable of immortality. And that they are actually 
immortal, or will never die, the sacred Scriptures 
do abundantly testify. Let us, then, hereupon 
seriously recollect ourselves in the following so- 
liloquy : 

* my soul, look back but a few yean, and thou 
wast nothing! And how didst thou spring out of 
that nothing ? Thou couldst not make thysdf ; that 
is quite impossible. Most certain it is, that that 
almighty, self-existent, and eternal Power which 
made the world, made thee also out of nothing. 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 11 

called thee into being when thou wast not; gave 
thee those reasoning and reflecting faculties^ which 
thou art now employing in searching out the end 
and happiness of thy. nature. It was he^ O my soul^ 
that made thee intelligent and immortal. It was 
he that placed thee in this body, as in a prison ; 
where thy capacities are cramped, thy desires de- 
based, and thy liberty lost. It was he that sent 
thee into this world, which, by all cirenmstances, 
appears to be a state of 8h<Mrt discipline and trial. 
And wherefore did he place thee here, when he 
might have made thee a more free, unconfined, 
and happy spirit f Bat check that thought ; it looks 
like a too presumptuous curiosity. A more need-) 
fd] and important inquiry is. What did he place 
thee here for ? And what doth he expect from diee 
whilst thou art here 7 What part hath he allotted 
me to act on the stage of human life, where he, an- 
gels, and men, are spectators of my behavionr ? The 
part he hath given me to act here is, doubtless, a 
very important one, because it is for eternity. And 
what is it, but to live up to the dignity of my ra- 
tional and int^ectual nature, and as becomes a 
creatore bom for immortali^ ? 

* And tell me, O my sonl (for as I am now about 
to cultivate a better acquaintance with thee, to 
whom I have been too long a stranger, I must try 
thee, and put many a close question to thee), tell 
me, I say, whilst thou confinest thy desires to sen- 
sual gratifications, wherein dost tbou differ fM>m 
the beasts that perish t Captivated by bodily appe* ' 
tites, doit thou not act beneath thyself? Dost thou • 
not put thyself upon a level with the lower class ■ 
of beings, which were made to serve thee ; offer i 
an indignity to thyself, and despise the works of | 
thy Maker's hands ? O remember thy heavenly ex- / 



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IB A TREATISE ON 

tract} remember thou art a spirit! Cheeky then,! 
the solicitations of the fiesL; and dare to do no- \ 
thing that may diminish thy native excellence, dis* '. 
honour thy Idgh original, or degrade thy noble | 
nature. But let me still urge it. Connder (I say), ' 
my soul, that thou art an immortal spirit. Thy ' 
body dies ; but thou, thou must live for ever, and 
thine eternity must taike its tincture from the man- 
ner of thy behaviour, and the ha]»ts thou contract- 
est, daring this thy short copartnership with flesh 
and blood. ! do nothing 'now, but what thou)| 
mayest, with pleasure, look back upon a million| 
of ages hence I For know, O my soul, that' thy self-l 
consciousness and reflecting faculties will not leave P 
thee with thy body; but will follow thee after<) 
death, and be the instrument of imspeakable ple»- 1 
sure or torment to thee ia that separate state of I 
existence.' 

2. In order to a full acquaintance with our- 
selves, we must endeavour to know not only what 
we are, but what we shall be. 

And O I what difiisrent creatures shall we soon 
be, from what we now are ! Let us look forward 
then, and frequently glance our thoughts towards 
death ; though they cannot penetrate the darkness 
of that passage, or reach the state behind it. That 
lies veiled from the eyes of our mind; and the 
great God hath not thought fit to throw so much 
light upon it, as to satisfy the anxious and inquisi* 
tive desires the soul hath to know it. However, 
let us make the best use we can of that little light 
which Scripture and reason haye let in upon this 
dark and important subject. 

' Compose thy thoughts, O my soul, and imagine | 
how it will fare with thee, when thou goest a naked, 
unembodied spirit, into a world, an unknoim world * 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. U 

of spirits^ with all thy self-consciousneai aboat thee^ •' 
where no material otgect shall strike thine eye> and 
where thy dear partner and companion^ the body^ 
cannot come nigh thee ; bnt where, without it, thoa 
wilt be sensible of the most noble satisfactions^ or 
the most exquisite painft. Embarked in death, thy 
passage will be dark ; and the shore on which it 
will land thee, altogether strange and unknown. 
It doth not yet appear what we thaXL he.* 

That revelation which God hath been pleased to 
make of his wiU to mankind, was designed rather 
to fit us for the future .happiness, and direct our 
way to it, than open to us die particular glories of 
it, or distinctly shew us what it is. This it hath 
left still very much a mystery, to check our too 
curious inquiries into the nature of it, and to bend 
our thoughts more intently to that which more 
concerns us, viz. an habitual preparation for it. 
And what that is we cannot be ignorant, if we be- f 
lieve either our Bible or our reason : for both these | 
assure us, that * that which makes us like to God, 1 
is the only thing that can fit us for the enjoyment of I 
him.' Here^ then, let us hold. IJet our great ! 
concern be, to be * holy, as he is holy.' And then, 
and then only, aro we sure to enjoy him, 'in whose 
light we shall see light/ And> be the future state ^ 
of existence what it will, we shall some way be 
happy there, and much more happy than we can 
now conceive ; though in what particular manner 
we know not, because God hath not revealed it. 



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14 A TREATISE ON 

CHAP. III. 
The several reUUiotu in which we ttand to €hd, to 
Christ, and our fellaw-creaiwes, 
il. ' Self-Knowledoe requires us to be well 
acquainted with the various relations in which we 
stand to other beings, and the several duties that 
result from those relations/ And, 

1. ' Our first and principal concern is to con- 
sider the relation we stand in to him who gave us 
our being.' 

We are the creatures of his hand, and the objects | 
of his care. His power upholds the being his good- 1 
ness gave us; his bounty accommodates us with* 
the blessings of this life ; and his grace provides 
for us the happiness of a better. Nor are we merely 
his creatures, but his rational and intelligent crea- \ 
tures. It is the dignity of our natures, that we are .' 
capable of knowing and enjoying him that made us. ' 
And, as the rational creatures of God, there are 
two relations especially that we stand in to him ; 
the frequent consideration of which is absolutely 
necessary to a right self-knowledge: for, as our 
Creator, he is our king and father; and, as hi^ 
creatures, we are the subjects of his kingdom, and 
the children of his family. 

1. 'We are the subjects of his kingdom.' And 
as such, we are bound, 

(1.) To yield a faithful obedience to the laws of 
his kingdom. And the advantages by which these 
come to be recommended to us above all human 
laws are many. They are calculated for the pri- 
vate interest of every one, as well as that of the 
public ; and are designed to promote our present, 
as well as our future happiness. They are plainly 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 15 

and explicitly published^ easily understood^ and inj 
fair and legible characters writ in every man's 
heart; and the wisdom^ reason, and necessity of| 
them are readily discerned. They are urged with 
the most mighty motives that can possibly affect 
the human heart : and^ if any of them are difficult* 
the most effectual grace is freely offered to encou- 
rage and assist our obedience : advantages which 
no human laws have to enforce the observance of 
them.^2.) As his subjects, we must readily pay 
him the homage due to his sovereignty. And this 
is no less than the homage of the heart; humbly 
acknowledging, that we hold every thing of him, 
and have eveiy thing from him* Earthly princes 
are forced to be content with verbal acknowledg- 
ments, or mere formal homage ; for they can com- ^ 
mand nothing but what is external. But God, who i 
knows and looks at the hearts of all his creatures, f 
will accept of nothing but what comes from thence. ^ 
He demands the adoration of our whole souls, t 
which is most justly due to him, who formed them, | 
and gave them the very capacities to know andf 
adore him.— (3.) As faithful subjects, we mustj 
cheerfully pay him the tribute he requires of us.^ 
This is not like the tribute which eaxthly kings ex-' 
act'^ who as much depend upon their subjects for 
the support of their power, as their subjects do 
upon them for the protection of their property. 
But the tribute God requires of us is a tribute of ' 
praise and honour, which he stands in no need of ', 
from us : for his power is independent, and his 
gloxy immutable ; and he is infinitely able, of him- 
self, to support the dignity of his universal govern- • 
ment. But it is the most natural duty we owe him, ( 
as creatures* For to praise him, is only to shew j 
forth his praise ; to glorify him, t© ceUbrate his t 



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16 A TREATISE ON 

glory; and to honour liim> is to render him andl 
his ways honourable in the eyes and esteem of 1 
others. And, as this is the most natural duty that ) 
creatures owe to their Creator, so it is a tribute he i 
requires of every one of them, in proportion to their : 
respective talents, and abilities to pay it.— (4.) As ] 
dutiful subjects, we must contentedly and quietly ' 
submit to the methods and administrations of his 
government, however dark, involved, or intricate. ( 
All governments have their arcaina imperii, or se- 
crets of state, which common subjects cannot pene- 
trate ; and therefore they cannot competently judge 
of the wisdom or rectitude of certain public mea- 
sures,because they are ignorant either of iiie springs 
of them, or the ends of them, or the expediency of 
the means arising from the particular situation of 
things in the present juncture. And how much 
truer is this with relation to Grod's government of 
the world, whose wisdom is far above our reach, 
and 'whose ways are not as ours*/ Whatever,! 
then, niay be the present aspect and appearance of | 
things, as dutiful subjects we are bound to acqui- 
esce ; to ascribe wisdom and 'righteousness to our 
Maker,' in confidence that the King and 'Judge 
of all the earth will do right.'— Again, (5.) As good 
subjects of God's kingdom, we are bound to pay a ! 
due regard and reverence to his ministers ; espe- 
cially if they discover an uncorrupted fidelity to his I 
cause, and a pure unaffected zeal for his honour ; I 
if they do not seek their own interest more than [ 
that of their divine Master. The ministers of', 
earthly princes too often do this ; and it would be 
happy if all the ministers and ambassadors of the 
heavenly King were entirely clear of the imputa- 
tion* It is no uncommon thing for the honour of 
im eaTthly monarch to be wounded through the 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE, 17 

tides of his ministers. The defamation and slander 
that is directly thrown at them, is obliquely m- 
tended against him; and as such it is taken. Soto 
attempt to make the ministers of the Gospel> in ge- 
neral, the objects of derision, as some do, plainly 
shews a mind very dissolute and disaffected to Qod 
and religion itself; and is to act a part very unbe*- 
coming die dutiful subjects of his kingdom.--<(Last* 
iy,) As good subjects, we are to do all we can tol 
promote the interest of his kingdom ; by defending j 
the wisdom of his administrations, and endeavour- 1 
ing to reconcile others thereunto, under all the I 
darkness and difficulties that may appear in them, | 
in opposition to the profane censures of the pros- J 
perous wicked, and the doubts and dismays of the • 
afflicted rightequs. This is to act in character, as / 
loyal subjects of the King of heaven. And who- > 
ever forgets this part of his character, or acts con- • 
trary to it, shews a great degree of self-ignoiance. \ 
But, 2. As the creatures of God, we are not 
only the subjects of his kingdom, but the children 
of his family. And to this relation, and the obli- 
gations of it, must we carefully attend, if we would 
attain the true knowledge of ourselves. We are 
his children by creation ; in which respect he is 
truly our father. Isa. Ixiv. 8 ; ' But now, O Lord, 
thou art our father : we are the clay, and thou our 
potter; and we all are the work of thine hands.' 
And, in a more special sense, we are his <^ildren. 
by adoption. Gal. iii. 26 ; ' For ye are all the chil- ' 
dren of God by faith in Christ Jesus.' And there- 
fore, (It) We are under the highest obligations to 
love him as our father. The love of children to 
parents is founded on gratitude for benefits received, 
which can never be requited ; and ought, in reason, 
to be proportioned to those benefits; especially if 



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they flow from a conscience of duty in the paretitkj 
And what duty more natural than to love our bene* 
factors ? What love and gratitude, then, is due to j 
him, from whom we hav£ Teceived the greatest 
benefit, even that of our being, and every thing' 
that contributes to the comfort of it?— (2.) As his' 
children, we must honour him ; that is, must speak 
honourably of him, and for him; and carefully 
avoid every thing that may tend to dishonour his^ 
holy name and ways. Mai. i. 6; 'A son honour- 
eth his father : if, then, I be a father, where is mine 
honour?' — (3.) As our father, we are to apply to 
him for what we want. Whither should children 
go but to their father, for protection, help^ and re- 
lief, in every danger, difficidty, and Stress ?<^ 
And, (4.) We must trust his power and wisdom, 
and paternal goodness, to provide for us, take care 
of us, and do for us that which is best ; and what 
that is he knows best. To be anxiously fearful 
what will become of us, and discontented and per- 
plexed under the apprehension of future evils> 
whilst we are in the hands and under the care of 
our Father which is in heaven, is not to act like 
children. Earthly parents cannot avert from their 
children all the calamities they fear, because their 
wisdom and power are lioiited ; but our all-wise 
and almighty Father in heaven can. They mayt 
possibly wantlove andtendemessfortheirofGBpring^l 
but OUT heavenly Father cannot for his ; Isa. xlix. ! 
15.— <5.) As children> we must quietly acquiesce 
in hit disposals, and not expect to see into the wifr* 
dom of all his will* It would be indecent and tin* 
dutiful in a child to dispute his parents' authority^ 
or question their wisdom, or neglect their orders, 
every time he could not discern the reason and de- 
sign of them. Much more unreasonable and unbe- 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 19 

coming is such a behaviour towards Qod, who 
giveth not account of any o(f his matters ; * whose 
judgments are unsearchable, and whose ways are 
past finding out;' Job xxxiii. 13. Rom. xi. 33. — 
(Lastly,) As children, we must patiently submit to 
his discipline and correction. Earthly parents may 
sometimes |nmish their children through passion, 
or for their pleasure ; but our heavenly Father al- 
wayf corrects his for their profit, Heb. xii. 10, and 
only if need be, 1 Pet. i. 6, and never so much as 
their iniquities deserve, Ezra ix* 13. Under hiii 
fatherly rebukes, then, let us be ever humble and| 
-submissive. Such, now, is the true filial disposi*>^ 
tion. Such a temper and such a behaviour should I 
we show towards God, if we would act in character ,' 
MB his childreut 

These, then, are the two special relations which, t 
as creatures, we stand in to Grod. And not to act \ 
towards him in the manner before mentioned, is to ! 
shew that we are ignorant of, or have not yet duly . 
considered, our obligationB to him as his subjects | 
and his children ; or that we are as yet ignorant j 
both of God and ourselves. Thus we see how di- j 
rectly the knowledge of ourselves leads- us to the ( 
knowledge of God. So true is the observation of * 
a late pious and very worthy divine, that, ' He that 
is a stranger to himself, is a stranger to Giod, and t 
to every thing that may denominate him wise and > 
happy.' 

But, 3. In order to know ourselves, there is 
another important relation we should often think 
of, and that is, that in which we stand to Jesus 
Christ, our Redeemer. 

The former was common to us as men: this is' 
peculiar to us as Christians, and opens to us a new ' 
scene of duties and obligations, which a man can) 



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20 A TREATISE ON 

never forget^ tha{ does not grossly forget himself; I 
ioT, as Christians, we are the disciples, the follow- j 
ers, and the servants of Christ, redeemed by him. • 
And, (1.) As the disciples of Christ, we are to ', 
learn of him : to take our religions sentimen ta only 

, from his Gosp elTm o pposition to ail the anthoiritat-. 

"nve dictates of meii y wlio a re weaJL_jnd faUibl e ST 

'gurse l vg s: ^ Call no man'master on earth/ Whilst 
som^ltSsk to distinguish themselves by party- 
names, as the Corinthians formerly did (for whidi 
the apostle blames them), one saying 'lam of 
Paul ;' another, ' I am of Apollos ;' another, * I 
am of Cephas,' 1 Cor. i. 12, let us remember, that 
we are the disciples of Christ, and, in this sense, 

• make mention of his name only. It is really io^u- 
rious to it, to seek to distinguish ourselves by ko^ 
oth^r. There is more carnality in such pax^-dl»- 
tinctions, denominations, and attaidiments, than ' 
many good souls are aware of; though not more 
than the apostle Paul (who was unwillingly placed 
at the head of one himself) hath apprized them of, 
1 Cor. iil. 4. We are of Christ : our coneem is, to 
honour that superior denomination, by living up to 
it ; and to adhere inflexibly to his Gospel, as the 
only rule of our faith, the guide of our life, and the 
foundation of our hope; whatever conteknpt or 
abuse we may suffer, eitiier from the profane or 
bigoted part of mankind, for sO doing.— (2.) As * 
Christians, we are followers of Christ ; and there- 
fore bound to imitate him, and copy alter that most 
excellent pattern he hath set us, ' who hath left us 
an example, that we should follow his steps ;' 1 Pet. . - 
ii. 21. To see that the same holy temper ' be in us, 
which was in him ;' and to discover it in the same 
manner he did, and upon like occasions. To this 
he calls us. Matt. xi. ^9, And no man is any far- 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 21 

ther a Christian, tbaa as he is a follower of Christ ; .< 
aiming at a more perfect conformity to that most I 
perfect example which he hath set us of oniversal it 
goodness.-->(3.) As Christians, we axe the servants ^i 
of Christ; and the varions duties which servants 
owe to their masters in any degree, those we owe 
to him in the .hi^est degree ;. who expects we 
should behave ourselves in his service frith that 
fidelity and seal, and steady regard to his honour 
aoid interest, at all times, which we are bound to 
by virtue of this relation, and which his immerited 
and unlimited goodness and love lay us under infi- 
nite obligatians to.— (Lastly,) We are, moreover J 
his redeemed servants; and, as such, are under) 
the strongest motives to love and trust him. | 

This deserves to be more particularly considered, 
because it opens to us another view of the human 
nature, in which we should often survey ourselves, 
if we desire to know ouzselves ; and that is, as de- 
praved or degenerate beings. The inward contest 
we so sensibly feel, at some seasons especially, be- 
tween a good and a bad principle (called, in Scrip- 
ture language, the flesh and the spirit), of which 
some of the wisest heathens seemed not to be igno- 
rant; this, I say, is demonstration, that some way 
or other the human nature has contracted an ill 
bias (and how that came about, the sacred Scrip- 
tures have sufficiently informed us), and that it is 
not what it was when it came originally out of the 
hands of its Maker; so that the words which St. 
Paul spake, with reference to the Jews in particu- 
ha, are justly applicable to the state of mankind in 
general, 'There is none righteous, no, not one;f 
Uiey are all gone out of the way, they are together] 
become unprofitable, there is none that doeth good, \ 
no, not one/ 



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22 A TREATISE ON 

Thk is a very mortifying thought^ but an unde- 
niable tiuth> and one of the first principles of that 
science we are treating of; and very necessary to' 
be attended to, if we would be sensible of the duty 
and obligations we owe to Christ, as the great Re- 
deemer, in which character he appears for the re- 
lief and recovery of mankind under this their nni- 
yersal depravity. 

The two miserable e£Fects of the human apottacy f 
are, (1.) That perverse dispositions grow up in our 
minds f^m early infancy, that soon settle into vi- 
cious habits, which render us weak and unwilling 
to obey the dictates of conscience and reason, and 
i& commonly called the dominion of sin. And, (2.) 
At the same time we are subject to the displeasure 
of God and the penalty of his law, which is com- 
monly called the condemnation of sin. Now, in 
both these respects, did Christ, 'the Lamb of God, 
come to take away the sin of the world;' that is, 
to take away the reigning power of it by the opera- 
tion of his grace ; and the condemning power of it, 
"by the atonement of his blood ; to sanctify us by his 
spirit, and justify us by his death. By the fbrmar 
he reconciles us to God, and by the latter he recon- 
ciles God to us ; and is, at once, our righteousness 
and strength. He died to purchase for us the ha]>- 
piness we had forfeited, and sends his grace and 
Spirit to fit us for that happiness he hath dxus pur- 
chased. So complete is his redemption! so suit- 
ably adapted is the remedy he hath provided to the 
malady we had contracted ! — * O blessed Redeemer I 
of wretched, ruined creatures, how unspeakable are 1 
the obligations I owe thee ! But, ah ! how insen- | 
slble am I of those obligations ! The saddest symp- 
tom of degeneracy I find in my nature, is that base \ 
ingratitude of heart, which renders me so unaf« ) 



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SfiLF-KNOWLEDGE. 2$ 

^cted with thine astotiishing compassions. Till 1} 
faiow thee^ I cannot know myself; and^ when ll 
survey myself> may I ever think of thee : may the ^j 
daily consciousness of my weakness and guilt lead \ 
my thoughts to thee; and may every thought of i 
thee kindle in my heart the most ardent glow of ;| 
gratitude to thee^ O thou divine^ compassionate -J 
friend^ lover^ and redeemer of mankind \' -j 

Whoever^ then^ he he^ that calls himself a Chris- • 
tian^ that \s, who professes to take the Gospel of 
Christ for a divine revelation^ and the only rule of [ 
his faith and practice^ but^ at the same time> pays 
a greater regard to the dictates of men than to the : 
doctrines of Christ— who loses sight of that great/ 
example of Christy which should animate his Chris- j 
tian walk, is unconcerned about his service, ho- j 
sour, and interest, and excludes the consideration \ 
of his merits and atonement from his hope and • 
happiness^he forgets that he is a Christian ; he J 
does not consider in what relation he stands to/ 
Christ (which is one great part of his character), 
and consequently discovers a great d^xee of self-<> i 
ignorance. 

4. Self-knowledge, moreover, implies a due at- 
tention to the several relations in which we stand 
to our fellow-creatoxes, and the obligations that re- 
sult from thence. 

If we know ourselves, we shall remember the | 
condescension, benignity, and love, that is due to ; 
inferiors ; the affability, friendship, and kindness, . 
we ought to shew to equals ; the regard, deference, 
and honour, we owe to superiors; and the can- 
dour, integrity, and benevolence, we owe to all. \ 

The particular duties requisite in these relations 
are too numerous to be here mentioned. Let it 
suffice to May, that, if a man doth not well consider 



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2i A TREATISE ON 

the several relations of life in which he stands to 
others, and does not take care to preserve the de- 
corum and propriety of those relations, he may 
justly be charged with aelf-ignorance. 

And this is so evident in itself, and so generally 
allowed, that nothing is more common than to say, 
when a person does not behave with due decency 
towards his superiors, such a one does not underr 
stand himself* But why may not this, with equal 
justice, be said of those who act in an ill mannet 
towards their inferiors? The expression, I know^ 
is not so often thus applied ; hut I see no reason { 
why it should not, since one is as common, and as ' 
plain an instance of self-ignpranoe, as the other. ' 
Nay, of the two, perhaps, men in general are more ' 
apt to be defective in their duty and behaviour to- 
wards those beneath them, than they are towards / 
those that are above them ; and the reason seems j 
to be, because an apprehension of the displeasure 
of their superiors, and the detrimental consequences 
which may accrue from thence, may be a check 
upon them, and engage them to pay the just re- 
gards which they expect : but there being no such ( 
check to restrain them from violating the duties l 
they owe to inferiors (from whose displeasure they ' 
have little to fear), they are more ready, under cer- ' 
tain temptations, to treat them in an unbecoming - 
manner. And as wisdom and self-knowledge will 
directaman to be particularly careful, lest he neg- , 
lect those duties he is most apt to forget; so, as to , 
the duties he owes to inferiors, in which he is most j 
in danger of transgressing, he ought more strongly 
to urge upon himself the indispensable obligations 
of religion and conscience. And if he does not, ; 
but suffers himself, through the violence of i»ngo- I 
vemed passion, to be transported into the excesses | 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 9 

of Hgonr^ tyranny^ imd oppresakm^ towards those < 
vhom Grod and natare have put into his power^t it 
is c;ertain he does not knoFW himself, is not ao- 
qnainted with his own particular weakness, is ig- 
norant of the duty of his relation, and, whatever 
iie may think of himself, hath not the true spirit ^ 
•of government, because he wants the art of self- 
govenmient. For he that is unable to govern him- 
self, can never be fit to govern others. 

Would we know ourselves, then, we must oon- > i 
eider ourselves as creatures, as Christians, and as li 
men ; and remember the obligations, which, as 
such, we are under to Qod, to Christ, and our fel- 
low-men, in the several relations in which we stand . 
to them, in order to maintain the propriety, uid f, 
fulfil the duties, of those xelation«8« 

CHAP.rV. 
JfiefmMdidyc<mndertheB4mkandSkaimofLifein 

which Providence hath placed u*, and what it it 

that Becomes and Adorns «#• 
III. ' A MAN that knows himself will delibe- 
rately consider and attend to the particular rank 
and station in life in which Providence hath place4 
ivm; and what is the duty and decorum of that 
station; wliat part is given him to act ; whatch»- 
lacter to maintain; and with what decency and 
propriety he acts that part, or maiotains that cha- 
raete^r/ 

For a man to assume a character, or aim at <« | 
pairt that does not belong to him, is affectation. \ 
And whence is it, that ttfie4:tation of any WHd a|>> ; 
pears so ridiculous, and cfzposes me& to ulliVirsal ( 
and just contempt, but because it is 9, certaiU itidi- \ 
,c«taon.of self-ignorrantiet Whe]ioeisit,thatiliuiy ^ 
C 



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seem so willing to be thought somethings ^hea ; 
they are nothings and seek to eiteel in those things 
in which they cannot^ whilst they neglect those 
thing* in which they might excel? Whence is it, 
that they counteract the intention of nature and 
Providtoce^ that when these intended them one 
thing, they would £edn be another 7 Whence, I say, 
bat from an ignorance of themselves, the rank of ; 
life they are in, and the part and character which 
projperly belong to them ! 

' It is a just observatidn, sind an eaoellent docu- 
taent of a moral heathen, that ' human life is a 
drama, and mankind the actors, who ha^ro tlieir 
several parts assigned them by the mastefr of the 
theatre, who stands behind the scenes, and obi^ 
serves in what manner every one acts. .Some have 
a short pari allotted them, and some a long one ; 
some a low, and some a high one. It is not he 
that acts the highest and most shining part on the 
stage that comes off with the greatest applause, but 
iie that acts his part best, whatever it be. To tilke 
care, then, to act our respective parts in life well> 
is ours ; but to choose in what part of life we shall 
act, is not ours, but God's.' But a man can never 
act his part well if ho does not attend to it, does 
hot know what becomes it, much less if he affect 
to act another which does not belong to him. It is 
always self-ignorance that leads a man to act ont 
of character. 

Is it a mean and low station of life thou art in ft 
Kndw, the^, that Providence- caQs thee to the ex- | 
ercise- 'of industry, oontentmeut, snbmis^on, pa- , 
tience'^hop«, an humble dependence on him, and a < 
lespff^tful deference to thy soperiors. In this way> i 
1^« jnayest shine through' thy obseonty, and rei|r j 
deriiiyBdl amiable iii the sight of <3od and mn^ 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 87 

lAd v.ot only ao, bot find more satislactioii, safety,^ 
and gelf-cnjoyment, than they iHio mdve in a hi(^Mt> \ 
sphere, from wh«ice they are in danger of falling. \ 
I But hath Providenee called diee to act in a morel 
public character, and for a more ezteaaxve benefit- 
to the world! Thy firet carOi Aen, ou|^ttoJ)ab I 
Ibat thy example, an far as its influ*"** ^ TfiM^^ffi , 
mayb e an enconnyement to th e practi ja^ pf imir \ 
^gMJ vSfttte^ And. next. tolffine m those virtnee 



etpecially, which best adorn thy station \ as bene- i 
volence, charity, wisdom, moderation, firmneia, t 
and ineriolable integrity, with an undismayed forti- ' 
tnde to press through all opposition, in accomplish- ; 
ing those ends which thou hast a prospect and pro* 
bability of attaining, for the apparent good of man- | 
kind. 

And as self-acquaintanee will teach us what part 
in life we ought to act, so the knowledge. of that 
will shew us whom we ought to imitate, and where- 
in. We are not to take example of conduct from 
those who have a very different part assigned them 
from ours, unless in those things that are univer- 
sally ornamental and exemplary. If we do, we 
shall but expose our affectation and weakness, and 
ooraelTes to contempt, for acting out of character ; 
for what is decent in one, may be ridiculous in an- 
other. Nor must we blindly follow those who move 
In the same sphere, and sustain die same chutec- 
ter with ourselves, but only in those things that aire 
befitting that character ; for it is not the person, 
but the character, we are to regard, and to imitate 
him no farther than he keeps to that. 

This caution especially concerns youth, who are 
«pt to imitate their superiors very implicitly, espe- 
eially such as excel in the part or prof esnon they 
thonselves an aiming at ; bttt» for want of jude- 



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28 A TREATISE OK 

ment to distingaiah what is fit and decent, are apt 
to imitate their very foibles, which a partiality for 
their penous makes them deem as excellencies; 
and thereby they become doubly ridiculous, both 
by acting out of character themselves, and by a 
weak and servile imitation of others in the very 
things in which they do so too. To maintain a 
character, then, with decency, we must keep our 
eye only upon ^at which is proper to it. 

In fine, as no man can excel in every thing, we 
must consider what part is allotted us to act in the 
station in which Providence hath placed us, and 
keep to that, be it what it will^ and seek toiexcel in 
that only. 



CHAP. V. 

Efserif Man should he v>eU acquainted utiih hit own 
Talents and Capacities, and in wheU Manner they 
are to he exercised and improved to the Greatest 
Advantage. 

IV, 'A MAN cannot be said to know himself till 
he is well acquainted with his proper talents and 
capacities, knows for what ends he received them^ 
and how they may be most fitly applied and im- 
proved for those ends.' 

A wise and self-understanding man, instead of 
aiming at talents he hath not, will set about culti« 
vating those he hath, as the way in which Provi- 
denoe points out his proper usefulness. 

As, in order to the edification of the church, the 
Spirit of God, at first, conferred upon the ministers 
df it a great variety of spiritual gifts, 1 Cor. xii^ 
8—10; so, for the good of the community, God is 
pleased now to confer upon men a great variety of 



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SBLF-KNOWLEDGE. 29 

natural talents. And * Every one hath his proper 
gift of, God'j one after this manner, another after 
that/ 1 Cor. vii. 7. And eyeiy one is to take .care | 
' Not to neglect^ but to stir up the gift of God whichi 
is in him/ ITim. iv. 14; 2 Tim. i. 6; because it 
%as given him to be improved ; and not only the 
abuse, but the neglect of it must be hereafter ac- < 
counted for. Witness the doom of that unprofit- 1 
able servant, 'who laid up hia single pound. in at 
napkin/ Luke xix. 20—24; and of him who wentV 
and 'hid his talent in the. earth/ Matt. xxv. 25 } 

It is certainly a sign of great self>ignorance for a 
man to venture out of his depth, or attempt any 
thing he wants opportunity or capacity to accom- 
plish.. And, therefore, a wise man will consider 
with himself, before he undertakes any thiiig of 
consequence, whether he hath a]»ilities to cany 
Jiun through it, and whether the issue of it is like 
to be for his credit *, lest he sink under the wei^^t 
he lays, upon himself, and incur the just censtire of 
rashness, presumption and folly. See Luke xiv. 
38-32. 

It is no uncommon thing for some, who excel in 
one thing, to imagine they may excel in every 
thing ; and, not content with that share of merit 
which every one allows them, are still catching at 
that which doth not belong to them. Why should 
9k, good orator affect to be a poet? Why must a 
celebrated divine set up for a politician? or d 
•tKtesman affect the philosopher? or a mechanic 
the scholar? or a wise man labour to be thought 
a wit? This is a weakness that flows from selft 
ignorance, and is incident to the greatest men^ 
Nature seldom forms an universal pnius, but 
deak out her favours in the present state with 



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a panimonions hand. Many a man, by thii 
foible, bath weakened a well-established repnta- 
tira* 

CHAP. VI. 
W*mmt be wsU acquainted with <mr JnabiUtiet, and 

thote Thmgt in whk^ toe aire naiwraUy Jhfieimt, 

tu well OM thete m which we Excel. . 
VJ 'We must, in order to a thorough aelf-ac^ 
qnuntanee, not only consider our talents and pro- 
per abilities, but have an eye to our frailties aadl 
deficiencies, that we may know where our weak-l 
ness as well as our strength lies/ Otherwise, likei? 
Samson, we may run ourselves into mfinite temp- \ 
tations and troubles. 

Evexy man hath a weak side. Every wise man) 
knows where it is, and will be euro to keep a doaJ 
ble guard there. | 

There is some wisdom in concealing a weakness.^ 
This cannot be done till it be first known ; nor eanj 
it be known without a good degree of self-acquaint-j 
anoe. 

It is strange to observe what pains some men aie 
at td expose themselves, to signalise their own 
folly, and to set out to the most public view those 
things which they ought to be ashamed to think 
•hould ever enter into their character. But so it 
is : some men eeem to be ashamed of those thingt 
which should be their glory, whilst others 'gloiy 
in their shame,' Phil. iii. 19. 

The greatest weakness in a man is to publish hik 
weaknesses, and to appear fond to have them 
known. But vanity will often prompt a man to 
this^ who, nnacquaiated with the measure of hit 
capacities, jattemptt things out of his power and 
beyond his reach} whereby he makes the worid 



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SBLF-KNOWLEPQE. SI 

acqu«aiited with two things to his disadvantage^ 
which they were ignoraat of befoTe> vis. his defi- 
ciency, and his self-ignorance, jn appearing so 
blind to it. 

It is ill-judged (though veiy common) to be less 
ashamed of a want of temper, than uzidentanding. 
For it is no real dishonour or fault in a man to 
have but a small ability of mind, provided he hath 
not the vanity to set up for a genius (which would 
1>e as ridiculous, as for a man of small strength 
«ad statue of body to set up for a champion) ; be- 
cause this is what he cannot help. But a manf^ 
«aay» in a good measure, correct the fault of his * 
natural temper, if he be well acquainted with it,| 
and duly watchful over it. And, therefore, to be- \ 
tray a poevailing weakness of temper^ or an ungo- ' 
vemed passion, diminishes a manV reputation < 
much more than to discover a weakness of judg- 
ment or undarstandittg. But what is most disho- * 
noarable of aU is, for a man at once to discover a 
great genius and an ungovemed mind ; because^ 
that strei^th of reason and understanding he is 
master ol, gives him a great advantage for the go- 
vernment of his passions ; and, therefore, his suf- 
fsring himself, notwithstwading, to be governed by 
them, shews that he hath too much neglected or 
misapplied his natural talent, and willingly sub- 
mitted to the tyranny of those lusts and passions, 
over.which nature had furnished him with abilities 
to have secused an ea^ conquest. 

A wise man hath his foibles, as well as a fooL 
Snt the difference between them isj that the foibles 
M the one are known to himself, and concealed 
bam the world ; the foibles of the other are known * 
to the world, and concealed from himself. The 
aviie mmi sees those frailties in h|ins^lf, whicl^ 



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82 A TREATISE ON 

others cannot; but the fool is blind to those ble* 
mishes in his character^ which are conspicuous to 
every body , else. Whence it appears, that self- 
knowledge is that which makes the main differ- 
ence between a wise man and a fool, in the moral 
sense of that word* 



CHAP. VII. 
Omeemmg the Knowledge of our constitutional Sins, 
VI. ^ Self- Acquaintance shews a man the parr 
ticular sins he is most exposed and addicted to ; 
and discovers not only what is ridiculous, but what 
is crimina], in his conduct and temper.^ 

The outward actions of a man are generally the 
plainest index of his inward dispositions; and, by 
the allowed sins of his life, you may know the 
reigning vices of his mind. Is he addicted to lux- 
ury and debauch? sensuality then appears to be 
hi^ prevailing taste. Is he given to revenge and 
cruelty t choler and malice, then, reign in. his 
heart. Is he confident, bold, and enterprising? 
ambition appears to be the secret spring. Is he 
sly and designing, given to intrigue and artifice? 
you may conclude, there is a natural subtilty of 
temper diat prompts him to this. And this secret 
disposition is criminal, in proportion to die degree 
in' which these outward actions, which spring £rom 
it> transgiess the bounds of reason and virtue. 

Every man hath something peculiar in the turn 
or Cast of his mind, which distinguishes him. as 
much as the particular constitution of his body. 
And both ihese, viz. his particular turn of mindy 
aiid particular constitution of body, incline and 
dispose him to some kind of sins^ much more than 
to others. And the same it is, that renden the 



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piactiee of certain virtnes so much more easy to 
aome, than it is to otiiers. 

Now, these sins which men generally are moet 
«^ngly inclined to^ and the temptations which 
they find they have least power to resist, are nsu* 
ally and properly called their constitutional siii8> 
their pecuUar frailties, and, in Scripture, their 
own iniquities, Psal. xviii. 23, and the sins which 
' do most easily beset them,' Heb. xii, 1 . 

' As in the humours of the body, so in the vices 
of the mind, there is one predominant, which has 
aa. ascendant over us, and leads and governs us. 
It is in the body of sin what the heart is in the 
body of our nature ; it begins to live first, and dies 
ImMt'f and, wfaUstit lives, it conmionicates life and 
ppirit to the whole body of sin ; and, when it dies, 
the body of sin expires with it. It is the sin to 
which our conatitntion leads, our circumstances be* 
tr9y, and custom enslaves us; the sin, to which 
QOt our virtues only, but vices too, lower their top- 
sail and submit ; the sin, which, when we would 
impose upon God and our consciences, we excuse 
and disguise with all imaginable artifice and so- 
phistry; but, when we are sincere with both, we 
oppose first, and conquer last. It is, in a word, 
the sin, which reigns and rules in the unregeae- 
late, and too often alarms and disturbs. (ah! that I 
eould say no more) the regenerate/— ^Xvioas't Set' 
wttmt, vol. i. p. 151. 

Some are m6re inelined to the sins of the flesh ; 
•ensuality, intemperance, undeanness, sloth, self- 
indalgence, and excess in animal gratifications. 
Othem more inclined to the sins of the spirit; 
pfide, malice, covetousness, ambition, wrath, re^ 
veiDge, envy, &c. And I am persuaded there are 
ivw., but> iqpon. a thorougjh search into themselves. 
C2 



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84 A TREATISE ON 

ipay find tlii^ some one of these sins hath oidiT 
narily a greater power over them than the rest«, 
Others often observe it in them, if they themselves 
do not. And for a man not to know his predomi* f 
nant iniquity, is a great self-ignorance indeed, and ' 
a sign that he has all his life lived far from home ; . 
hecause he is not acquainted with that in himself, ' 
vhich every one, who is but half an hoar in his . 
company, perhaps, may be able to inform him of. 
Hence proceeds that extreme weakness which some 
discover, in censuring others for the very same 
faults they are guilty of themselves, and perhaps 
in a much higher degree; on which the 'apostle 
Paul animadverts, Rom. ii. 1. " 

It must be owned, it is an irksome and disagree- 
able business for a man to turn his own accuser; 
to search after his own faults, and keep his eye 
upon that which it gives him shame and pain to 
see. It is like tearing open an old wound. But it I 
is better to do this, than to let it mortify. The! 
wounds of the conscience, like those of the body, ' 
cannot be well cured till they are searched to the 
bottom 'y and they cannot be searched withoutpain. 
A man that is engaged in the study of himself, 
must be content to know the worst of himself. 

Do not, therefore, shut your eyes against your * 
datling sin, or be averse to find it out. Why 
should you study to conceal or excuse it, and fondly 
cherish that viper in your bosom ? ' Some • men 
deal by dieir sins, as some ladies do by their per* 
sons ; when their beauty is decayed, they seek to 
hide it from themselves by false glasses, and from 
others by paint. So, many seek to hide thdr sins 
from themselves by false glosses, and from others 
by excuses, or false colonn.*^- Baxter, But. the 
greatest cheat they put upon themselves. 'They 



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that e&ret their sme shall not prosper/ Prov. xxviii.' 
13. It is dangerous self-flattery> to give soft and 
smoothing names to sins^ iu order to disguise their 
nature. Rather lay your hand upon your hearty 
and thrust it into your bosom, though it come out 
(as Moses's did) leprous as snow, Exod. iv. 6. 

And to find out our most beloved sin, let us con«- 
sider what are those worldly objects or amuse' 
ments which give us the highest delight; this, it 
is probable, will lead us directly to some one of 
our darling iniquities, if it be a sin of commission; 
and what are those duties which we read or hear 
of from the word of God, to which we find our- 
selves most disinclined ; and this,inall likelihood, 
will help us to detect some of our peculiar sins of 
emis8ion> which, without such previous examina* 
tion, we may not be sensible of. And thus may 
we make a proficiency in one considerable branch 
of self-knowledge* 

CHAP. VIII. 
Tbe Knowledge of our most dangeroua TemvgMAoM 

necestary to Self- Knowledge. 
VII. ' A MAN that rightly knows himself, is ac- 
quainted with his peculiar temptations; and knows 
when, and in what circumstances^ he is in thfi 
greatest danger of transgressing.' 

Reader, if ever you would know yourself, yoil 
must examine this point thoroughly; and if you 
have never yet done it, make a pause when yotl 
have read this chapter, and do it now. Consider 
in what company you are most apt to lose the pos* 
session and government of yourself; on what oe- 
tasions you are apt to be most vain and unguarde 
«d, most warm and predintant. Flee that corn- 



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9» A TREATISB OK 

pBHf, avoid thoge occasions, if yoa would keep^ 
your conscience clear* Wliat is it that robs yon ^ 
most of your time and your temper? If you have ' 
a cTue regard to the improvement of the one, and 
the preservation of the other, you will regret such 
a loss, and shun the occasions of it, as carelully as 
yau would a road beset with robbers. 
. But especially must you attend to the occasions 
which most usually betray yon into your favourite 
vices, and consider the spring from whence they 
arise, and the circumstances which most favour 
them. They<arise> doubtless, £rom your natiiral 
tempet, which strongly disposes and inclines yon 
to them. That temper, then, or particular turn of I 
desire, must be care6illy watched over as a most { 
dangerous quarter ; and the opportunities and cix^f 
cumstanoes which favour those inclinations must ' 
be. resolutely avoided, as the strongest temptations. ; 
For the way to siiKiue a criminal inclination is, 
first, to avoid the known occasions that excite it, .' 
and then to curb the first motions of it ; and thus, 
having no opportunity of being indulged, it will, pf , 
Itself, in time lose its fcmse, aifed fail of its wonted 
victory. - 

The surest way to conquer, is sometimes to de* ( 
dine a battle ; to weaiy out the enemy, by keep- ' 
ing him at bay. Fabius Maximus did not use this , 
stratagem more successfully against Hannibal^than 
% Christian may against his peculiar vice, if he be J 
but wntch£ul of his advantages. It is dangerous to| 
provoke an unequal enemy to the fight, or to run t 
into such a situation, where we cannot expect to > 
escape without a disadvantageous encounter. 

It is of unspeakable importance, in order to self* * 
kskowledge and sdf-govemment, to be aieguainted , 
wiUi all the accesses and avenues to sin, and to 



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<ibMwe whidi way it ia that w« ate oftemett led 
to it, and to set reaaon and conscience to guard 
those passes, those usual inlets to vice, which, if a 
man once entevs, he will find a retreat extreaiely 
difficult. 

'Watel^nlness, which is always necessary, is 
ehiefly so when the first assaults are made; for 
then the enemy is most easily repulsed, if we never 
•u£fer him to get within us, but, upon the very fint 
i^iiproadi, draw up our forces, and fight him with- 
out the gate. And this will he more manifest, if 
we observe by what methods and degrees tempt»* 
tiens grow upon us. The first thing that presents 
itself to the mind, is a plain single thought ; this 
straight is improved into a strong imagination ; 
that, again, enforced hj a sensible dtiight; then 
follow evil motions; and, when these are once 
stirred, there wants nothing but the assent of the 
will, and then the work is finished. Now, the first 
steps of this are seldom thought worth our care, 
sometimes not taken notice of; so that the enemy 
Is f refuently. got close up to us, and even within 
our trenches, before we observe hkau'^Thomat 
d KempU, p. 22. 

As men have their particular sins which do most 
easily beset them, so they have their particul^ 
temptations which Aa most easily overcome them. 
That may be a very great temptation to one, which 
is none at all to another. And if a man does not7 
know what are his greatest temptations, he must 
have been a great stranger indeed to the business 
ofaelf-employment. ^ 

As the subtle enemy of mankind takes cave to 
draw men gnadually into sin, so he usually draws 
them, by degrees, into temptation. As he disf 
4j;iiises the si^, so he conoeala the temptation to it % 



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well knowing tliat> were they bat once Bensible of 
their danger of sin, they would be ready to be upon 
their guard -against it. Would we know ourselvei \ 
thoroughly, then, we must get acquainted, not only ' 
with our most usual temptations, that we be not > 
unawares drawn into sin, but with the previous 
fteps, and preparatory circumstances, which make • 
way for those temptations, that we be not drawn 
nnawaresinto the occasions of sin ; for those things 
. which lead us into temptations, are to be consider^ 
^d as temptations, as well as those which imme-^ ' 
diately lead us Into sin. And a man that knows . 
himaftif -willbo aware of his remote temptations, as 
well PA the more immediate ones; e,g* if he find 
the company of a passionate man is a temptation 
(as Solomon tells us it is, Prov. xxii. 24, 25), he 
will not only avoid it, but those occasions that may f 
lead him into it. And the petition in the Lord's 
Prayer makes it as much a man's duty to be upon 
his guard against temptation, as under it* Nor • 
can a man pray from his heart that God would not ' 
lead him into temptation^ if he take no care him« 
self to avoid it. i 

CHAP. IX. 
Self-Knowledge discaoers the tecret Prejvdieet of the 

Heart, 
VIII. 'Another important branch of self-know* 
ledge is, for a man to be acquainted with his 
own prejudices, or those secret prepossessions of 
his heart, which, though so deep and latent that 
he may not be sensible of them, are often so strong 
and prevalent, as to give a mighty but impercep- 
tible bias to the mind. 
« And in this the great art of self-knowledge oon» 



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lists, mor« ihan in any one thing again, tt beings 
therefore, a matter of such mighty consequenoe* 
and, at the same time, a point to which men^ in 
general, are too inattentive, it deserves amore par- 
ticular discussion. 

These prejudices of the human mind may be 
considered with regard to opinions, persons, and 
things. 

1. With regard to opinions. ^"^ 

It is a common observation, but Well expre8sed\< 
by a late celebrated writer, * that we set out in lils , 
^th such poor beginnings of knowledge, and grow 
up under such remains of superstition and igiio- 
nmce, such infhtettces of company and fsshioa, 
auch insinuations of pleasure, &c. that it is nd 
wonder if men get habits of thinking only in one 
way ; that these habits, in time, grow rigid and 
confirmed \ and so their minds come to be overca^T 
with thick prejudices, scarce penetrable by any rayl 
of truth or light of reason.'--See Rdigwn of Na^ 
ime deUMeaied, p. 129. 

There is no man but is more fond of one paiCi* 
ticular set or scheme of opinions in philosophy, po» 
litics, and religion, than he is of another, if he hatli 
employed his thoughts at all about them. • The 
question we should examine, then, is. How come 
we by these attachments? whence are we so fond 
<rf those particular notions? did we come fairly by 
lliem? or were they imposed upon us, and dictated 
to oar easy belief, before we were able* to judge of 
them ? This is most likely. For the impressions 
we early receive generally grow up with us, and 
•re those we least care to part with* However,! 
which iray soever we came by them, they must be , 
re-examined, and brought to the touchstone of 
soimd setiae, solid reason, and plain Scriptnse. ^^^ 



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they will not bear tbis^ after liard rabbing, they \ 
ffknst be discarded as no genuine principles of tnttb, J 
but only connteifeits of it.. / 

. And, as reason and Scriptore most discover our 1 
prejudices to us, so they only cam help ns to get 
rid of them. By these we aie to rectify^ and to 
these we are to conf onn> all our opinions and sen^ 
timents in religion, as oar only standard, exdosive 
of all other rules, light, or authority whatsoever. 

And care must further be taken that we do not 
make Scripture and reason bend and buekle to our 
notions, which will rather confirm our prejudices 
than cure them. For whatever cannot evidently 
be made out without the help of overstrained me« 
taphors, and the arts of sophistry, is much to be 
suspected ; which used to m&ke archbishop TiUo^> 
son suy, iVbf» crmo orgttHat m iheoUtgia, ' I do net 
tove subtilties in divinity*' But, 

2. The human mind is very apt to be pM|i«- 
diced, either for or against certain pexsons, as weH 
as certain sentiments. And, as prejudice will lend 
• man to talk very unreasonably with regard to the 
latter, so it will lead him4o act very unreasonably 
with regard to the former. 

What is the reason, for instance, that we cannot 
help having a more hearty affection for some per* 
sons than others 7 Is it from a similarity of taste 
and temper? or something in their address, that 
flatters our vanity t or something in their humour, 
that hits our fancy ? or something in their coAvei^ 
sation, that improves our understanding t or a oeN 
tain sweetness of disposition, and agreeableness of 
manner, that is naturally engaging t or from bene* 
fits received or expected from them ? orfrom some 
eminent asid distinguished excellency in them? or 
from^ nooe of these, but something e]te# we cannot 



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SSLF-KNOWL£DG£. 41 

tell what? Such sort of inquiries will shew uA 
whether our esteem and affectioiis be rightly plaeed> 
or flow from mere instinct, blind prejudice, or some- 
thing worse. 

And so, on the other hand, with regard to our 
disaffection towards any one, or the disgust we 
have taken against him ; if we would know cnt-^ 
selves, we must examine into the bottom of this, 
and see not only what is the pretended, but true 
^use of it ; whether it be a justifiable one, and oux 
. lesentments duly proportioned to it. Is his man^ 
net of thinking, talking, and acting, quite different 
finxm mine, and therefore what I cannot approve? 
or have' I received some r^al affront or injury from 
him? Be it so ; my continued resentment against 
him, on either of these accounts, may be owing/ 
notwithstanding, more to some unreasonable pre- 
ju<Mce in me, than any real fault in him. 
■ For, as to the former, his way of thinking, talk->, 
ing, and acting, may posubly be jnster than my 
awn> which the mere force of custom and habit 
enly makes me prefer to. his* However, be his 
ever so wrong, he may not have had the same adi 
vantage of improving his understanding, address, 
and conduct, as I have had, and therefore his de- 
fects herein are more excusable. And he may 
have many other kind of excellencies which I have 
aot«' ' But he is not only ignorant and umnanner' 
ed, but insufferably vain, conceited, and overbear- 
ing at the same time.' Why, that, perhaps, he 
cannot hel]^; it is the fault of his nature* . He is 
the object of pity, rather than resentment. And 
had I such a temper by nature, I should, perhaps, 
with all my self-improvemeiit, find it a difficult 
^hing to manage ; and, therefore, though I can never 
choose such a one for an agreeable companion^ yet 



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41 A TREATISE ON 

I onght not to liarbour a diriike to ^im, bat lo^e, 
and pity, and pray for him, as a person imder a 
great misfortime, and be thankful that I am not 
under the same. * But he is quite blind to this 
fault of his temper/and does not appear to be in 
the least sensible of it/ Why, that is a greater 
misfortune still, and he ought to be more pitied* 

And as to the other pretended g^und of prcgu<« 
diee, ' He hath often offended and injured me,' let 
me consider, (1.) Whether any offence was really 
intended ; whether I do not impute that to ill*natare 
which was only owing to iU-manneis, or that to 
design, which proceeded only from ignorance. Do 
I not take offence before it is given? If so, the 
fimlt is mine, and not his ; and the resentment I 
have conceived against him, I ought to turn upon 
myself. Again, (2.) Did I not provoke him to it; 
when I knew his temper ? The fault is still my 
.own. I did, or might know the pride, passion, or 
perveneness of his nature ; why, then, did I ex« 
asperate him? A man that will needlessly xoose 
alien must not expect always to come off so &« 
vottiably as the hero of La Mancha. But, (3.) Sup* 
pose J were not the aggressor, yet how came I into 
his company? who led me into the temptationt 
He hath acted according to his nature in what 
he hath done \ but I have not acted according to 
my reason, in laying myself so open to him* I 
knew him ; why did I not shun him, as I woold 
any other dangerous animal that does mischief by 
instinct? If I must needs put my finger into a 
wasp's.nest, why should I blame them for stinging 
me? Or, (4.) H I could not avoid his company^ 
why did I not ann myself? Why did I ventnm, 
defenceless, into so mueh danger? Or, (5.) Sup* 
pose he hath done me » real and undaswved ia» 



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jsay, vitlioat my fault or provocation^ yet, doe* 
not my jnesent dJBcontent greatly aggravate it! 
Does it not appear greater to me than it does to 
any body else? or than it will to me after the pre* 
sent ferment is over ! And> lastly> after all^ mnst 
I never forgive? How shall I be able to repeat 
the Lord's Prayer, or read oor Saviour's commenl " 
opon it. Matt, vu 14, 15, with an nnforgiving tem^ 
per? Do I not hope to be forgiven ten thoiuand 
talents? and cannot I forgive my fellow-servan ^ 
thirty-pence, when I know not bat he hath repent 
•d, and God hath forgiven him, whose f orgiveneM 
I want infinitely more than my greatest enemy doei 
mine? 

Soch eonsiderations are of great use to soften ow 
prgndices against persons, and at once to discover 
the tme spring, and prevent the bad effects of them* 
And happy wonld it be for a Christian, could he 
bnt call to mind, and apply to his relief, half the 
good things which that excellent heathen empevoir 
tod philosopher, Marcus Antoninus, could say 
npon this subject : some of which I have, for the 
benefit of the English reader, extracted, and thrown 
into the margin.* 

3. The mind is apt to be prejudiced against, or 
in favour of, certain things and actions, as well ni 
cectain sentiments and persons. 

If^ therefore, you find in yourself a secret diain« ] 
dination to any particolar action or duty, and the 
mind begins to cast about for excuses and reasons 
to justify die neglect of it, consider thematter well ; 
go to the bottom of that reluctance, and search oat 
what it is that gives the mind this aversion to it ; 
whether it be the thing or action itself, or some dis« 

• The plan of this edition exclndkiK notes, the re»der U re- 
/erted to the woriu of Msrcns Antoninus. 



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44 . A TREATISE 0^ 

cooraging circumstances that may attend it; or 
some disagreeable consequences that may possibly 
flow from it, or your supposed unfitness for it at 
present. Why> all these things may be only ima^ 
gtnary : and to neglect a plain and positive duty 
upon such considerations^ shews that you are go-> 
vemed by appearances more than realities^by fan<^ 
•^more than reason, and by inclination more than 
conscience. 

' But let fancy muster up all the discouraging cir^ 
cumstances, and set them in the most formidable 
light, to bar your way to a supposed duty : for in- 
<tance^ 'It is very difficult, I want capacity, at 
least am so indisposed to it at present, that I shall 
' make nothing of it ; and then it will 1)6 attended 
with danger to my person, reputation, or peace ; 
and the opposition I am like to meet with is great/ 
&c. But, after all, is the call of Providence clear? 
is the thing a plain duty ; such as reason, con- 
science, and Scripture, your office, character, or 
personal engagements call upon you to discharge? 
If so, all the aforesaid objections are vain and de^ 
lusive ; and ^ou have nothing to do, but to sum-, 
mon your courage, and, in dependence on divine 
^elp, to set about ^e business immediately, and in 
good earnest, and in the best and wisest manner 
you can; and, you may depend upon it, you will 
find the greatest difficulty to lie only in ihe first 
attempt; these frightful appearances to be all vi^ 
sionary, the mere figments of fancy, turning lambs 
into lions, and mole-hills into mountains; and 
that nothiog but sloth, folly,. and self-indulgence 
thus set your imagination on work, to deter you 
|rom a plain duty < Your heart would deceive you ; 
but you have found out the cheats and do not be 
imposed upon. 



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SfiLF-KKOWLEBOE. 45 

Again, suppose the thing done, consider howlt 
will look then. Take a view of it as past; and^V 
whatever pains it may cost yon, think whether itj 
will not be abundantly recompensed by the inward I 
peaice and pleasure which arises from a conscions-/ 
ness of having acted right. It certainly will. And ^ 
the difficulties you now dread will enhance yont 
ftiture satisfaction. But think again, how you will 
bear the reflections of your own mind, if yon wil- 
fully neglect a plain and necessary duty ; whether 
this wUl not occasion you much more trouble than 
all the pains you might be at in performing it. 
And a wise man will always determine himself by 
the end^ or by such a retrospective view of things 
considered as past. 

Again^ on ^e other hand, if you find a strong! 
propension to any particular a<ition, examine that! 
with the like impartiality. Perhaps it is what nei- 
ther your reason nor conscience can folly approve ; 
and yet every motive to it is strongly urged, and 
every objection against it slighted. Sense and ap- ' 
petite grow importunate and clamorous, and want, 
•to lead> while reason remonstrates in vain. But « 
turn not aside from that faithful and friendly mo- • 
nitor, whilst, with alow still voice, she addresses 
you in this soft, but earnest language : ' Hear me, 
I beseech you, but this one word more. The ac- 
tion is indeed out of character ; what I shall neteir 
approve* The pleasure of it is a great deal over* 
rated; you will certainly be disappointed. It is 
a fidse appearance that now deceives you. And • 
what will you think of yourself when it is past, 
and you come to reflect seriously on the matter? , 
Believe it, you will then wish you had taken • 
me for your counsellor instead of those enemies { 
of mine, your lusts and passions, which have so ; 



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often "misled y0u> though you know f-ttciver 

. Bnth short recollections as these^ and a little 
leisfire to take a view of the nature and conse- 
qutoees of things or actions, hefoie we rcsject or 
approve them, wUl pRvent much false judgment 
aad bad conduct, and, by degrees, wear off the 
prfgndices which fancy has fixed in the mind, 
either for or against any particular action; teach 
us to distinguish between things and their appear- 
ances; strip them of those false colours that so 
often deceive us ; correct the sallies of the iinagi* 
nation, and leave the reins in the hand of reason^ 

Before I dismiss this head, I must observe, that i 
some of our strongest prejudices arise from an exf 1 
eessive self-esteem, or a too great value for our own | 
good sense and understanding. Philautus, in j 
every thing, shews himself very well safufied with 
his own wisdom, which makes him very impatient 
of contradiction, and gives him a distaste to aU 
who shall presume to oppose their judgment tohb 
in any thing. He had rather persevere in a mis- 
take than retract it, lest his judgment should suf* 
fer, not considering that his ingenuity and good 
sense suffer much more by such obstinacy. The 
fulness of his self-sufficiency makes him blind to 
those imperfections, which every one can see in 
him but himself. So that, however wise, Bincere,L 
and friendly, however gentle and seasonable your 
remonstrance may be, he takes it immediately to 
proceed from ill-nature or ignorance in you> but 
from no fault in him. 

Seneca, I remember, telk us a remarkable story, 
which very well illustrates this matter. Writing 
to his friend Lucillus, ' My wife,' says he, ' keeps 
Haxpastfis in her houe stilly vriio, you know, is a 



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^ELF^KNOWLEDQE. 47 

•ort of family^fool, and an ^ncumbnuice upon as. 
For my part, I am fat from talcing any pleasun In 
sock prodigies. If I have a mind to divert myaelf 
witlL'afool> I have not far to go for one; loan 
laogh at myself. This silly girl, all on a sndden, 
IfMt her eye-flight ; and (which perhaps may seem 
incredible, but it is very true) ^e does not know 
she is blind, but is every now and then desiring 
her governess to lead her abroad, saying the house 
is dailt. Now, what we laugh at in this poor crea- 
.tQre» we may observe, happens to us all* No man 
knows that he is covetous or insatiable* - Yet, with 
this difference, the blind seek somebody to lead 
them, but we are contentto wander witbonta guide. 
But why do we thus deceive ourselves 1 Th^ di^^X 
ease i9 not without us, but fixed deep within. And \ 
therefore is the cure so difficult, because we know } 
not that we axe tick.' 

CHAP. X. 

The necetuty and fneam of kn(wing our Naivral . 
Tempers, 
ji, * ANothbr very important branch of self- 
knowledge.is, the knowledge of those goveming pas- 
aioBs or dispositions of the mind, which generally 
form what we call a man's natural temper.' 

The difference of natural tempers seems to be 
chiefly owing to the different degrees of influence 
the several passions have up<»i the mind \ e.^. li 
ihe passions are eager, and soon raised, we say the 
man is of a warm temper \ if more sluggish, and 
slowly raised, he is of a cool temper; according as . 
anger, malice, or ambition prevail, he is of a flercQ, 
chnrli^, or haughty temper ; the infiuenpe of the 
iofterpasskuia of love, pity, and be»ev<d«nco*f own'- 



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a sweety sympathumg, and conrteoos temper ; -and 
wHere all the passions are duly poised^ and the 
milder and pleasing ones prevail, they make what 
is commonly called a quiet, good-natured man* 
. So that it is the prevalence or predominance of 
any particular passion which gives the turn or tino* 
tare to a man's temper, by which he is distinguished^ 
and for which he is loved and esteemed, or shunned 
and despised by others. 

Now what this is, those we converse with am 
soon sensible of. They presently see thnmgh ua, 
and know the fault of our temper, and order their 
behaviour to us accordingly. If they are wise and 
well-mannered, they will avoid touching the string, 
which they know will jar and raise a discord within 
us- If they axe our enemies, they will do it on 
purpose to set us on tormenting ourselves. And 
our friends we must suffer sometimes, with a gentle 
hand, to touch it, either byway of pleasant raiUeiy, 
or faithful advice. 

But aman must be greatly unaoqtudnted with hinw 
self, if he is ignorant of Ids predominant passion, 
or distinguishing temper, when every one else ob- 
serves it. And yet, how common is this piece ef 
self-ignorance ! The two apostles, Peter, and Joha^ 
discovered^t in that very action wherein they meant 
to express nothing but a hearty seal for their Maa* 
ter's honour; which made him tell them, ' that they 
knew not what manner of spirit they were of ,^ Lake 
ix. 5; t. e. that, instead of a principle of love and 
genuine seal for him, they were, at that time, go- 
verned by aspiritof pride, Tevenge,andcruelty. And 
that the apostle John should be liable to this e6i»* 
aure, whose temper seemed to be all love and swee^ 
ness, is a memorable instance how difficult a thing 
it is for a man at all times to know his own spirit; 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 49 

md. that that passion which seems to have the least 
power over hk mind, may, on some oocasiozis, in- 
sensibly gain a criminal ascendant there. 
, And. the necessity of a perfect knowledge of our 
reigniog passions appears farther from hence; be- 
cause they not only give a tinctore to the temper, but 
to the anderstandiog also, and throw a strong bias 
on the judgment. They have much the same effect 
upon the eye of the inind, as some distempers have 
upon the eyes of the body; if they do not put it ont, 
they weaken ity or throw fiUse colours before it, and 
make it form a wrong judgment of things; and, inj 
short, are the source of those forementbned preju-t 
dices, which so often abuse the human understand- j 
ing. 

Whatever the different passions themselves, that 
reign in the mind, may be owing to; whether to the 
different texture of the bodily organs, or the differ- 
ent quali^ or motion of the animal spirits, or to the 
native txan and cast of the soul itself ; yet certain 
it is, that men*s different ways of thinking are much 
according to the predominance of their different pas- 
sions, and especially with regard to religion. Thus, 
e. g. we seemelandioly people are apt to throw too 
much gloom upon their religion, and represent it in 
a very nninviting and unlovely idew, as all austerity 
^d mortification; whilst they who aite governed by 
themore gay and cheerful passions, are apt to run into 
the other extreme, and too much to mingle the plea- 
sures of sense with those of religion ; and are as much 
too lax, as the others too severe ; and so, by the preju- 
dice or bias of their respective passions, or the force 
of their natural temper, are led into the mistake 
on both sides. 

' So that, would a man know himself, he must 
study his natural temper, his constitutional incUna- 
D 

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so /At&£ATI$S ON 

tions and favoiiiite paffikfns; for by these « maa'g f 
jxidgment is easily perverted; and a -wrong bias Hung \ 
i^pon his mind : these ai^ the inlets of priejudioe, the j 
liagaarded avenues of the knind, by which a thou- I 
sand etten ahd secret favlts find admission^ with* ' 
out being observed or taken notice of/ — Sped, vol. / 
ti.No.399. 

And that we mky more ea^y come at the Icnow- 
ledge of onr predominant affections, let ns consider 
what outward events do most impress and move ns, 
aitd in what manned. What is it that usually creates 
the greatest pain or pleasure in the mind? As for 
pain, a stoic, indeed, may' tell us, ' that we must 
teep things at a distance; let nothing that is out- 
ward come within us ; let externals be eztemali 
stilll' But the human make will scarce bear the 
rigour of that philosophy. Outward things, afte^ all, 
^11 impress and affiect us : and there is no harm in 
this, provided ihey do not get the possession of ns; 
overset our xeaaon, or lead us to act unbecoming a] 
mim or a Christian. And one advantage we may! 
x^p from hence is, the manner or degree in whiidft 
outward things impress usj may lead us into amove 
perfect Icnowledge of ourselves, and discover to us 
our weak side, and the particular passions which 
have most power over us. 

Our pleasures wiU likewise discover our reigx^x^» 
passions, and the time temper and disposition of &e 
soul. If it be captivated by the pleasures of sin, it 
is a sign its prevaiHng taste is very vicious and cor- 
fdpt y if with' the pleasures of sense, very low and 
sordid; if imaginary pleasures, and the painted 
scenes of fancy and 'romance, do most entertain it, 
the soul hath then a trifling turn ; if the pleasures 
of science, or intellectual improvements, are those 
it is most fond of, it has then a noUe and refined 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 91 

taBte ; but if the pleasures of religion and divine con- 
templation do^ above all others^ delight and enter- 
tain it, it has then its true and proper taste ; its tem- 
per is, aJi It should be, pure, didne, and heavenly, 
provided these pleasures spring from a true religious 
.piindple, free from that superstition, bigotry, and 
enthusiasm, under 'which it is often disguised^ 

^nd thus, by carefully observing what it is that 
gives the mind the greatest pain and torment, or the 
the greatest pleasure and entertainment^ we come at 
tbe knowledge of its reigning passions, and prevail- 
ii^ temper and disposition. « 

' Include thyself , then, O my soul, .within the com- 
pMS of thine own heart ; if it be not lairge, it is deep i 
and thou wilt there find exercise enough. Thou v[ilt 
never be able to sound it; it cannot be known bu? 
by him who tries the thoughts and reins. But dive 
into this subject as deep as thou canst. . Exajriipft 
thyself; and this knowledge of that which passeft 
within thee will be of mor& use to thee than the 
knowledge of all that passes in the world. Concenx 
not thyself with the wars and quarrels oi public or 
private persons. Take cognizance of those contests I 
which are between thy flesh and thy spirit ; betwixt I 
the law of thy members and that of thy under* I 
standing. Appease those differences. Teach thy • 
^esh t» be in subjection. Replace reason on its i 
throne, and give it piety for its counsellor. Tame \ 
thy paaai^ons, and bring them under bondage. Put ' 
thy little state in good order ; govern, wisely and / 
holily those numerous people which ajre contained \ 
in so little a kingdom ; that is to say, that mukitade \ 
of affections, thoughts, opinions, and passions, which 1 
are in thine heart.'--Jifrt6u'< Method of Chri$tian ^ 
Detotum, part iiL chap. 3. 



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68 A TREATISE ON 

CHAP. XI. 
C(moeming the iecret Spring$ of our AcHoru. 
X. < Another considerable branch of self-ac- { 
quaintance is^ the knowledge of the true motives I 
and secret springs of our actions/ I 

And this sometimes cannot, -without much pains, 
be acquired. But for want of it, we shall be in 
danger of passing a false judgment upon our actions, 
and of having a wrong opinion of several parts of 
our conduct. 

- It is not only very possible, but very common, 
for men to be ignorant of the chief inducements of 
their behaviour ; and to imagine they act from one 
motive, whilst they are apparently governed by 
another. If we examine our views, and looV into 
our hearts narrowly, we shall find that they more 
frequently deceive us in this respect than we are 
aware of, by persuading us that we are governed 
by much better motives than we are. The honour 
of God, and the interest of religion, may be the 
open and avowed motive, whilst secular interest 
and secret vani^ may be the hidden and true one. 
While we think we are serving God, we may be 
only sacrificing to Mammon. We may, like Jehu, 
boast our zeal for the Lord, when we are only ani- 
mated by the heart of our natural passions ; may 
cover a censorious spirit under a doak of piety ; 
and giving admonitions to others, may be only giv- 
ing vent to our spleen. 

How many come to the place of public worship ^ 
out of custom or curiosity, who would be thought 
to come thither only out of conscience ! and whilst 
their external and professed view is to serve God, 
and gain good to dieir souls, their secret and in-^ 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 6S 

tvard motive is only to shew themselves to advan- 
tage, or to avoid sinfolarity, and prevent ' others 
making observations on their absence. Monifi- 
cence and alms^ving may often proceed from a 
principle of pride and party-spirit^ when it may 
appear to be the effect of pare piety and charity ; 
and seeming acts of friendship^ from a motive of | 
selfishness. 

By thus disgoisii^ our motives, we may impose 
ilpon men, but, at the same time, we impose upon I 
ourselves ; and, whilst we are deceiving others, I 
our own hearts deceive us. And, of all impostures, I 
aelf-deception is the most dangerous^ because least 
suspected. 

Now, unless we examine this point narrowly, we! 
shall never come to the bottom of it ; and unless 
we come at the true spring and real motive of onr| 
actions, we shall never be able to form a right', 
judgment of them; and they may appear very 
different in our own eye, and in the eye of thei 
WQrld, from what they do in the eye of Grod : ' For t 
the Lord seeth not as man seeth ; for man looketh 
on the outward appearance ; but the Lord looVeth 
on the heart '/ 1 Sam. xvi. 7. And hence it is, 
that ^ that which is highly esteemed among men, is 
oftentimes abomination in the sight of God ;' Luke 
xvi. 15. * Every way of man is right in his own 
eyes ; but the Lord ponderetb the hearts '/ ProY. 



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CHAP. XII. 
JBverjf one that knows Hinuelf, is, m a particular 

manner, tennUe how far he is governed bgf a tkhrtt 

for Applause. 
XI. < Another thing necessary to unfold a 
man's heart to himself^ is to consider what is his 
appetite for fame, and by -what means he seeks to 
gratify that particular passion.' 

This passion, in particular, having always so 
main a stroke, and oftentimes so unsuspected an 
influence on the most important parts of our con- 
duct, a perfect acquaintance with it is a very ma* 
terial branch of self-knowledge, and therefore re- 
quires a distinct and particular consideration. 

Emulation, like the other passions of the human 
mind, shews itself much more plainly, and works 
much more strongly in some, than it does in others. 
It' is in itself innocent, and was planted in our na- 
tures for very wise ends, and is capable of serving 
very excellent purposes, if kept under proper re- 
strictions and regulations. But without these, it 
degenerates into a mean and criminal ambition. 
' When a man finds something within him that 
pushes him on to excel in worthy deeds, or in ac- 
tions truly good and virtuous, and pursues that de- 
sign with a steady unaffected ardour, without te- 
lervd or falsehood, it is a true sign of a noble spirit; 
for that love of praise can never be criminal; that 
exdtes and enables a man to do a great deal more 
good than he could do without it. And perhaps 
there never was a fine genius, or a noble spirit, 
that rose above the common level, and distinguished 
itself by high attainments in what is truly excel- 
lent, but was secretly, and perhaps insensibly, 
prompted by the impulse of this passion. 



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But, <m the contrary, if a man's viecnrs tesAfe ^j 
in the applause of others, whether it be4e3erved oi 
not ; if he pants after popularity and £ain9> not re^ 
garding how he comes by it ; if his passion . for 
praise, ui^e him to stretch himsdf beyond the line 
of his capacity, and to attempt things to which he 
18 unequal ; to condescend to mean arts, and low 
dissimulation, for the sake of a mune; and, in a 
sinister, indirect way, sue hard for a little incense, 
not caring from whom he receives it ^ it then dege<^ 
nerates into what is properly called vanity. And if 
it excites a man to wicked attempts, and makes him 
willing tp sacrifice the esteem of all wise and good 
fnen, to the shouts of the giddy multitude ; if his 
ambition overleaps the bounds of decency and truth, 
and breaks through obligations of honour and vir* 
tae; it is then not only vanity, but vice; a vice the 
most, destructive to the peace and happiness of hu-' 
man sodety, and which, of all others^ hath made 
the greatest havoc and devastation among men. 

What an instance have we here of the wide djif.- 
ference between common opinion and truth ! that 
a vice, so big with mischief and misery, should be 
mistake^ for a virtue ! and that they, who hav« 
been most infamous for it, should be crowned with 
laurels, even by those who have been ruined by it, 
snd have those laurels pcarpetuated by the common 
consent of men through after ages I Seneca's judg- 
ement of Alexander is certainly moxe agreeable to 
truth than the common opinion ; who called him 
^ A public cut<throat, rather than a hero ; and who. 
In seeking only to be a terror to mankind, arose ta 
no greater an excellence, than what bdosged to the 
most hurtful and hateful an^nals on earth.' 

Certain it is, that these false lieroes are, of all 
uen, most ignorant of themselves, who seek their 



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gain and glory from tlie destruction of' their. own 
species ; and, by this wicked ambition^ entail in- 
famy and curses upon their name and family, in- 
stead of that immortal glory they pursued, and 
imagined they had attained. According to the 
prophet's words, * Woe to him who coveteth an evil 
covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest 
on high ; that he may be delivered from the power 
of evil ! Thou hast consulted shame to thine house, 
by cutting off many people ; and hast sinned against 
thy soul •/ Hab. ii. 9, 10. 

Now no man can truly know himself till he be 
acquainted with this, which is so of ten the secret 
and unperceived spring of hia actions, and observes 
how far it governs and influences him in his con-j 
versation and conduct. 

And, to correct the irregularity and extravagance 
of this passion, let us but reflect how aity and un- 
substantial a pleasure the highest gratifications of 
it afford ; how many cruel mortifications it exposes 
us to, by awakening the envy of others ; to what 
meanness it often makes os submit ; how ^quently 
it loseth its end, by pursuing it with too much ar- 
dour (for virtue and real excellence will rise to the 
view of the world, though it be not mounted on the 
wings of ambition, which, by soaring too high, pro- 
cures but a more fatal fall); and how much more > 
solid pleasure the approbation of conscience wiU 
yield, than the acclamations of ignorant and mis- 
taken men, who, judging by externals only, cannot 
know our true character, and whose commendations 
a wise man would rather despise than court ' Ex.< 
amine but the sixe of people's sense^ and the con- ] 
dition of their understanding, and you will never • 
be fond of popularity, nor afnid of censure ; nor i 
solidtoos what judgment they may form of you, j 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 67 

who know not how toi^dge rightly of thein8elvei.| 
— Marc, Anton, lib. ix. $ 18. 

CHAP. XIII. 

tVhai kind of Kwwledge we are dl/reaiiy fiumuhed 
with, and what degree of etteem we tet upon it, 

XIL 'A MAN can never rightly know, himself > 
unless he examines into his knowledge of other 
things.' 

^We must consider ji then, the knowledge we have; 
and whether we do not set too high a price upon it, 
and too great a value upon ourselves on the accoont 
of it; of what real use it is to us, and what efibct 
it hath upon us ; whether it does not make us too 
stiff, unsociable, and assoming; testy and super- 
cilious, and ready to despise others for their sup- 
posed ignorance. If so, fxpat knowledge, be it wha|; 
it will, does ua more harm than good. We were 
better without it ^ ignorance itself would not reifc- 
der us so ridiculous. Such a temper, with aU our 
knowledge, shews that we knew not ourselves. 
/ ' \ man is certainly proud of that knowledge he 
despises others for the want of.' 

How common it is for some men to be fond of 
appearing to know more than they do, and of seem- 
ing to be thought men of knowledge! To which 
end, they exhaust their fund almost in all compa- 
nies to outshine the rest; so that in two or three 
conversations they are drawn dry, and you see to 
the bottom of them much sooner than you could 
at first imagine. And even that torrent of learning 
which they pour upon you at first so unmercifuUy, 
rather confounds than satisfies you. Their visible 
aim is not to inform your judgment, but display 
Da 



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58 A TREATISE ON 

their own. You have many things to query and 
except against, but their loquacity gives you no 
room ; and their good sense, set off to so much 
advantage, strikes a modest man dumb. If you 
insist upon your right to examine, they retreat, 
either in coxifusion or equivocation; and, like the 
scuttle-fish, throw a large quantity of ink behind 
them, that you may not know where to pursue. 
Whence this foible flows is obvious enough. Self- 
knowledge would soon correct it. 

Bat, OS some ignorantly affect to be more know* 
ing than they are, so others vainly affect to be 
more ignorant than they are ; who, to shew they 
have greater insight and penetration than other 
men, insist upon the absolute uncertainty of sci- 
ence ; will dispute even first principles ; grant no« 
thing as certain, and so run into downright Pyr- 
rhonism ; the too common effect of abstracted de- 
bates excessively refined. 

Every one is apt to set the greatest value upon 
that, kind of knowledge in which he imagines he 
himself most excels, and to undervalue all other 
kinds of knowledge in comparison of it. There 
wants some certain rule, then, by which every 
man's knowledge is to be tried, and the value of 
it estimated. And let it be this : ' That is the best 
and most valuable kind of knowledge, that is most 
subservient to the best ends, i,e, which tends to 
make a man wiser and better, or more agreeable 
and useful, both to himself and others.' For know- 
ledge is but a means that relates to some end. 
And as all means are to be ju^ed by the excellency 
of. their ends, and their expediency to produce 
them ; so, that must be the best knowledge that 
hath the directest tendency to promote the best 
eads^ viz: a man's own true happiness, and that of 



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SBLF-KNOWLEDGE. 69 

othen; in which the glory of God^ the ultimate {| 
eiiid> is ever necessarily comprised. \| 

Now, if we were to judge of the several kinds of 
science by this rule, we should find, — (1.) Some of 
them to be hurtful and pernicious, as tending to 
pervert the true end of knowledge ; to ruin a man's 
own happiness, and make him more injurious to 
society. Such is. the knowledge of vice, the vari- 
ous temptations to it, and the. secret ways of prac- 
tising it ; . especially the arts of dissimulation, fraud, 
and dishonesty. (2.) Others will be found unpro- 
fitable and useless; as those. parts of knowledge^ 
which, though they may take up much time and 
pains to acquire, yet answer no valuable purpose ; 
and serve only for amusement, and the entertain- 
ment of the imi^ination : for instance^ an acquaint- 
ance with plays, novels^ games, and .modes, i^ 
-vdiich aman may be very critical and expert, and 
yet.not a whit the^wiser or more useful man. . (3.) 
Other kinds of knowledge are good only relatively^ 
or conditionally, and may be more useful to one 
than another ;. viz. a skill in a man's particular oc- 
cupation or calling, on which his credit, livelihood^ 
or usefulness in the world depends. And, as this 
kixul of knowledge is. valuable in proportion to its 
end, so it ought to be cultivated with a diligence 
and esteem answerable to that. . (Lastly,) Other 
kinds of knowledge are good, absolutely and uni- 
irersally ; viz. the knowledge of Grod and ourselves, 
the nature of our final happiness, and the way to 
it. . - This . is equally necessary to all. And how f 
thankful should we be, that we, who live under I 
the light of the Gospel, and enjoy that light in its / 
perfection and purity, have so many happy means I 
and opportunities of aitaining this most useful and i 
neioeBsaiy kind of knowledge ! 

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60 A TREATISE ON 

A man can never undentand himself, then, till I 
he makes a right estimate of his knowledge ; till | 
he examines what kind of knowledge he yahies i 
himself most upon> and most diligently cultivate 
how high ayalne he sets upon it; what good it ^ 
does him ; what effect it hath upon him ; what he j 
is the better for it; what end it answers now, ory 
what it is like to answer hereafter. 

There is nothing in which a man's aelffignonaee 
discovers itself more, than in the esteem he hath 
for his nndeittanding, or for himself on aoooont 
of it. It isatiite and true observation, 'That 
empty things make iJie most sound.' Men of the 
least knowledge are most apt to make a show of it, 
and to valae themselves npon it; which is veiy 
visiUe in forward confident youth, raw canoeited 
academics, and those who, uneducated in youth, 
betake themselves in later life to reading, without 
taste or judgment, only as an accomplishment, and 
to make a show of scholarship ; who have just 
learning enough to spoil company, and lender 
themselves xiduulons, but not enough to make 
Mther themselves or others at all the wiser. 

But, beside the forementioned kinds of know- 
ledge, there is another, which is commonly called 
false knowledge ; which, though it often imposes 
upon men under the show and semblance of tme 
knowledge, is really worse than ignorance. Some 
men have learned a great many things; and hanre 
taken a great deal of pains to learn them, and stand 
very high in their o^m opinion on account of them, 
which yet they must unlearn before they are traly 
wise. They have been at a vast expense of time, 
and pains, and patience, to heap .together, and to 
confirm themselves in a set of wrong notions, which 
they lay up in their minds a* a fbnd of valuable 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 61 

knowledge: which^ if they try by the foremen- 
tioned rnles, viz. 'The tendency they haye to 
make item wiser and better, or more useful and 
l)ebeficial to others/ will be found to be worth just 
nothing at all. 

Beware of this false knowledge ; for, as there is 
nothing of which men are maik obstinately tena- 
doua, so there is nothing that tenders them more 
vain Or more averse to self«knowledge. Of all 
thingsymen are most fond of their wrong notions. 

The apostle Paul often speaks of these men and 
their self-sufficiency, in very poignant terms ; who 
'though they seem wise, yet/ says he, 'must be- 
come fools before they are" wise/ 1 Cor. iii. 1& 
iTiongh Utey think, they know a great deal, < know 
nothing yet as they ought to know / 1 Cor. 'viii. 2 1 
but 'deceive tiliemselves^ by thinking themselves 
something, when they are nothing / 6al« vi. 3. 
And; whilst they 'desire ta be teachen of otkeTB> 
anderstand not what they say, nor whereof they 
affirm/ ITim. i. 7: and 'want themselves to 
be taught^hat are the first rudiments and princi- 
ples of wisdom / Heb. vi. 12. 

CHAP. XIV. 
Concerning the Knowledge, Guewd, and Government 

of our ThoughU, 
XIU. 'Another part of self-knowledge consists 
in a- due acquaintance with our own thoughts, and 
the workings of the imagination.' 

The right government of the thoughts requires 
no small art, vigilance, and resolution ; but it is a 
matter of such vast importance to the peace and 
improvement«of the mind, that it is worth while 
to be at some pains aboutit. A man that hath so 1 



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62 A TREATISE ON 

numerous and turbulent a family to govern as his^ 
own thoughts^ which are so apt to be imder the in- 
fluence and command of his passions and appe« 
tites, ought not to be long from home ; if he • in, 
they will soon grow mutinous and disorderly under, 
the cohduct of those two headstrong guides> and 
raise great clamours and disturbances^ and some- 
times on the slightest occasions ; and a more dreads 
ful scene of misery can hardly be imagined, than 
that which is occasioned by such a tumult and up- 
roar within, when a raging conscience, or inflamed 
passions^ are let loose without check or control. 
A city in flames, or the mutiny of a drunken crew 
aboard, who have murdered die captain, and are 
butchering one another, are but faint emblems of 
it. The torment of the mind, under such .an in- 
surrection and merciless ravage of the passions, is 
not easy to be conceived. The most revengeful 
man cannot wish his enemy a greater. . 

Of what vast importance, then, is it for a man \ 
to watch over his thoughts, in order to a right go- . 
vemment of them? to consider what kind/ of . 
-thoughts find the easiest admission ; in what man^- 
ner ti^ey insinuate themselves, and upon what oc- ^ 
casions? 

It was an excellent rule which a wise heathen 
prescribed to himself in his private meditations : 
' Manage,' saith he, < all your actions and thoughts 
in such a manner, as if you.were just going out of 
the world.'— ^Jlforc. Anion, Med, lib. ii. $ 11 ; — ^Again, 
saith he, * A man is seldom, if ever, unhappy for 
not knowing the thoughts of others; but he. that . 
does not attend to the motions of his own, is cer- 
tainly miserable.' — Mare. Anton, lib. ii. § 8. 

It may be worth our while, then, here to discuss 
this matter a little more particularly ; and consi- 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 6S 

der^ I. What kind of thoughts are to excluded or 
rejected. And^ II. What ought to be indulged and 
entertained in.the heart. : . . 

I. Some thoughts ought to be immediately ba- / 
nished as soon as they \i«ve found entrance. And^ 
if we are often troubled with them^ the safest way . 
will be to keep a good guard on the avenues of the 
mindj by. which they enter, and avoid those occa- ' 
sions which commonly excite them. For, some- \ 
times, it is much easier to prevent a bad thought I 
entering the mind, than to get rid of it when it is 
entered. More particularly, ^ 

1. Watch againist all fretful and discontented ' 
thoughts, which do but chafe and wound the mind * 
to no purpose. To harbour these, is to do yourself 
more injury than it is in the power of your greatest 
enemy to do you. It is equally a Christian's in- 
terest and duty to ' learn, in whatever state he is, 
therewith to be content;' Phil. iv. 11, " 
' 2. Harbour not too anxious and apprehensive t 
thoughts. By giving way to tormenting fears, sus- ! 
picions of some approaching danger or troublesome \ 
event, some not only anticipate, but double the i 
evil they fear; and undergo much more teOra the, 
apprehensions of it before it comes, than by suffer- 1 
ing it when it is come. This is a great but com- / 
inon Weakness, which a man should endeavour to ' 
arm himself against, by such kind of reflections as{ 
these : ' Are not all these events under the certain, 
direction of a wise Providence ? If they befal me, 
tiey are then that share of suffering which (Jod 
hath appointed me, and which he expects I should 
bear as a Christian. How often hath my too ti- 
morous heart magnified former trials, which I found 
to be less in reality, than they appeared in their 
approach? And perhaps the formidable aspect 



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64 A TREATISE OS 

they put on, is only a strsl&gem of the great eno- 
my of my best interest, designed on purpose to di- 
vert me from some point of duty, or to draw me 
into some sin, to avoid them. However, why should 
J. torment myself to no purpose? The pain and 
affliction the dreaded evil will give me when it 
comes, is of God's sending ; the pain I feel in the 
apprehension of it, before it«omes, is of my own 
procuring. Whereby I often make my sufferings 
more than double; for this overplus of them, 
which I brix^ upon myself, is often greater than 
that measure of them which the hand of Provi- 
dence immediately brings upon me/ 

3. Dismiss, as soon as may be, all angry and 
wrathful thoughts. These will but canker and eor^ 
rode the mind, and dispose it to the worst temper 
in the world, viz. that of fixed malice and revenge. 
* Anger may steal into the heart of a wise maa^ 
but it rests only in the bosom of fools ;' Eccles. vii« 
9. — Make all Uie most candid allowances for the 
offender; consider his natural temper; turn your 
anger into pity ; repeat 1 Cor. xiii. ; think of th^ 
patience and meekness of Christ, and the petition 
in the Lord's prayer ; and how much you stand in 
need of forgiveness yourself, both from God and 
man ; how fruitless, how foolish, is indulged re* 
sentment; how tormenting to yourself. You have 
too much good nature willi]]^ly to give others to 
much torment ; and why should you give it your* 
self? You are commanded to love your neighbour 
as yourself, but not forbidden to love yourself as 
much> And why should you do yourself that in- 
jury, which your enemy would be glad to do you? 
Especially, 

4. Banish all malignant and revengeful 
thoughts. A spirit of revenge is the very spirit of 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 65 

the devil; than which. nothing makes a man moiej 
like him, and nothing can be more opposite to the\ 
temper which Christianity was designed to pro-| 
mote. If yonr revenge be not satisfied, it will give 
you torment now ; if it be, it will give you greater 
hereafter. None is a greater self-tormentor than 
a malicious and - revengeful man> who turns the 
poison of hist>wn temper in upon himself. • i 

5. . Drive from the mind aJl silly, trifling, and 
Unseasonable thoughts ; which sometimes jget into 
it we know not how, and seize and possess' it be- 
fore we are aware, and hold it in empty idle amuse- 
meiits, that^eld it neither pleasure nor profit, and ' 
turn to' no manner of account in the world, only 
eonsame time, and prevent a better employment of 
the mind. And, indeed, there is little difference,? 
whether we spend the time in sleep, or in these 
waking dreams. Nay, if the thoughts which thus 
insensibly steal upon yon, be ^ot altogether absurd 
and whimsical, yet if they be impertinent and un- 
seasonable, they ought to be dismissed, because 
they keep out better company. > '■> 

6. Cast out all wild and extravagant thoughts, 
all vain and fantastical imaginations. Suffer not 
your thoughts to roam upon things that never were; 
and perhaps never will be ; to give you a visionary 
pleasure in the prospect of what you have not the 
least reason to hope, or a needless pain in the ap- 
prehension of what you have not the least reason 
to fear. The truth is, next to a clear conscience; 
and a sound judgment, there is not a greater bless- 
ing than a regular and well-governed imi^ination : 
to be able to view things as they are, in their true 
light and piopet colours ; and to distinguish the 
false images that are painted on the fancy, from 
the representations of truth and reason. For, how 



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common a thing is it for men^ before they are a 
to confound reason and fancy, truth and imagina- 
tion, together! to take the flashes of the animal 
spirits for the light of evidence ! and think they 
believe things to be true or false, when they only 
fancy them to be so ; and fancy &em to be so, be* 
cause they would have them so ^ not considering 
that mere fancy is only the ignu fatuus of the 
mind; which often appears brightest when the 
mind is most covered with darkness, and will he 
sure to lead them astray who follow it as their 
guide. Near akin to thebe are; 

7. Romantic and chimerical thoughts. By 
which I mean that kind of wild-fire, which tik« 
briskness of the animal spirits sometimes suddenly 
flashes upon the mind, and excites images that are 
so extremely ridiculous and absurd, that one can 
scarce forbear wondering. how they could get ad- 
mittance. These nndom flights of lancy are 80<m 
gone ; and so differ from that castle-building of the 
ima g i n a t ion before-mentioned, which is a more 
settled amnsement. But these are too incoherent 
and senseless to be of long continuance : and are 
the maddest sallies^ and the most ramping reveries 
of the fancy that can be. I Imow not whether iny 
reader understands now what I mean ; but if fae 
attentively regards aH that passes through his mind, 
perhaps he may, hereafter, by experience. 

6. Repel all impure and lascivious thoughts, 
which taint wid poUute the mind ; and though hid 
from men, axe' known to GU>d, in whose eye they 
axe abosninable. Our Saviour warns us against 
these, 9s a kind, of spiritual fornication. Matt. v. 
28, and inconsistent with that purity of heart wUdi 
his Gospel requires. 
. 9. Take care how you too much indulge gloomy 



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SXLF*KNOWIJEa)GE. 67 

Ax^d tnelaAcholy thoughts. Some are disposed to 
eee every thing in the worst light. A black doud 
hangs hovering over their minds, whichj, when it 
falls in showers through the eyes, is dispersed, and 
all within i9 serene again. This is oftien purely « 
mechanical ; and owing either to some fault in the 
bodily constitution, or some accidental disorder in 
the animal frame. However, one that consults ' 
|lie peace of his own mind will be upon his guard ■ 
against this, which so often robs him of it. ; 

. 10. On the other hand^ let not the imagina- 
tion be too sprightly and triumphant. Some arc 
•s unreasonably exalted as others are depressed ; 
and the same person, at different times, often runs 
into both extremes, according to the diffeieut tem- 
per and flow of the animal spirits. And, therefore, 
the thoughts which so eagerly crowd into the mind 
at such times, ought to be inspected and well 
guarded, otherwise they will impose upon our judg* 
ments, and lead us to form such a notion of our- 
selves, and of things, as we shall soon see fit to 
alter, when the mind is in a more settled and 
sedate £rame. * * 

, Before we let our thoughts judge of things, we ,- 
inust aet reason to judge our thoughts ; for they < 
are not always in a proper condition to execute ! 
that o£Sce. We do not believe the character wUlch 
a man gives us of another, unless, we have a good 
opinion of his own ; so, neither should we belieVe 
the verdict which the mind pronounces, till we iftrst 
examine whether it be impartial and unbiassed; 
whether it be in a proper temper to judge, and 
have proper lights to judge by. The want of this 
previous act of self-judgment is the cause of so 
much self-deception and false judgment. 

liastly, with abhorrence r^ect immediately aU 



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profane and blasphemous thoughts^ which are some- 
times suddenly injected into the mind, we know 
not how, though we may give a pretty good guess 
from whence. And all those thoughts which are 
apparently temptations- and inducements to sin, our 
hoTd hath, by his example, taught us to treat in 
this manner. Matt. iv. 10. 

These, then, are the thoughts we should care- 
fully guard against. And as they will (especially 
some of them) be frequently insinuating themselves 
into the heart, remember to .set reason at the door 
of it to guard the passage, and bar their entrance, 
or drive them out forthwith when entered; not 
only as impertinent, but mischievous intruders. 

But, II. There are other kinds of thoughts which 
we 6ught to indulge, and with great care and dili- 
gence retain and improve. 

Whatever thoughts give the mind a rational or 
religious pleasure, and tend to improve the heart 
and understanding, are to be favoured, often re- 
called, and carefdiy cultivated. Nor should we 
dismiss them, till they have made some impres- 
sions on the mind, which are like to abide there. • 

And to bring the mind into a habit of recovering, 
retaining, and improving such thoughts, two things 
are necessaiy. 

\. To habituate ourselves to a close and rational 
way of thinking. And, 2. To moral reflections and 
religious contemplations. 

(1.) To prepare and dispose the mind for the en- 
tertainment of good and usefiil thoughts, we must 
take care to habituate it to a close and rational 
way of thinking. 

When you have started a good thought, pursue 
it^ do not presently lose sight of it, or suffer any 
trying suggestion that may intervene to divert you 



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from it. Dismiss it not till you have sifted, and f 
exhaasted it, and well considered the several con- 
secluences and inferences that result from it^ How- • 
ever, retain not the subject any longer than you . 
find your thoughts run freely upon it ; for to con- ' 
fine Uiem to it when it is quite worn out, is to give 
them an unnatural bent, without sufficient employ* 
ment ; which will make them flag, or be more apt 
to nm off to something else. 
• And, to keep the mind intent on the subject yon . 
think of, you must be at some pains to recal and 
refix your desultory and rambling thoughts. Lay > 
open the subject in as many lights and views as it 
is capable of being represented in; clothe your J 
best ideas in pertinent and well-chosen words, de-( 
liberately pronounced, or commit them to writing. . 

Whatever be the subject, admit of no inferences 
from it, but what you see plain and natural* This ' 
is the way to furnish the mind with true and solid 
knowledge ; as, on the contrary, false knowledge 
proceeds from not understanding the subject, or 
drawing inferences from it which are forced and 
unnatural, and allowing to those precarious infer- 
ences, or consequences drawn from them, the same ' 
degree of credibility as to the most rational and 
best established principles. 

Beware of a superficial, slight, or confused view 
of things. Gro to the bottom of them, and examine 
the foundation; and be satisfied with none but 
dear and distinct ideas (when they can be had) in 
every thing you read, hear, or think of : for, rest- 
ing in imperfect and obscure ideas, is the source of 
much confusion and mistake. 

Accustom yourself to speak naturally, pertinents 
ly, and rationally, on all subjects, and you will 
soon learn to think so on the best; especially if 



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yott ofifcen converse with those persons that speak, 
aiwl those authors that imte in that manner. 

And such a regulation and right management of 
your thoughts and rational powers will be of great 
and general advantage to you in the pursuit of use- 
£id ksowledgfcy and a good guard against the levi* 
ties and frantic sallies of the imagination. Nor 
will 3rou be sensible of any disadvantage attending 
it, excepting one, viz. its making you more sensi- 
ble of the weakness and ignorance of others, who 
are often talking in a random, inconsequential 
manner; and whom, however, it may oftentimes 
be more prudent to bear with, than contradict. 
But the va^t benefit this method will be of in trac- \ 
ing out truth and detecting error, and the satisfac- ' 
tion it wUl give you in the cool and regular exer- , 
cises of self-employment, and in the retiiining, pur-' 
suing, and improving good and useful thoughts, wi|l 
more than compensate that petty disadvantage. 

• {2.y If we would have the mind furnished and 
ententained with good thoughts, we must inure it 
to moral and religious subjects. 
• It is certain the mind cannot be more nobly or 
usefully employed, than in such kind of contem- 
plations: because the knowledge it thereby ac<* 
quires is of all others the most excellent know-r 
ledge, and that both in regard to its object and its 
end ; the object of it being (jod, and the end of it 
eternal happiness. 

The great end of religion is, to. 'make us like 
God, .and conduct us to the enjoyment of him.' 
And whatever hath not this plain tendency, and . 
especially if it have the contrary, men may call re- 
ligion., if they please ; but they cannot call it more 
out of its name. And whatever is called religioua 
kjxowledge, if it does not. direct us in the way to. 



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this eiid> iftnotTeligiovs knowledge, but something 
else, fabely so called. And some taee unhappily 
tecnstomed to such an abuse of words and under- 
standing, as not only to call, but. to think, those 
things religion^ which are the very reverse of it ; 
and those notions religious knowledge, which lead 
them the farthest from it. 

The sincerity of a true religious principle cannot 
be better known, than by the readiness with which 
the thoughts advert to God^ andr the pleasure with ' 
which they are employed in devout exercises. And 
though a person may not always be so well pleased ' 
With hearing religious things talked of by others, 
whose dififeient taste, sentiments, or manner of ex^ 
pression, may have something disagreeable ; yet, ' 
if he hare no inclination to think of them himself^ 
or converse with himself about them, he hath great 
reason to suspect that his 'heart. is not right with 
God.' But, if he frequently and delightfally exev* 
cise his mind in divine contemplations, it wUl not 
Qjply b6 a good mark of his sincerity, but will ha« 
bitnally dispose it for the reception of the best and 
most useful thoughts, and fit it for the noblest en- ' 
tertainments. 

Upon the whole, then, it is of as great import- i 
ance for a man to take heed what thoughts he en- 
tertains, as what company iie keeps ; for they have 
the same effect upon the mind. Bad thoughts- are 
as infectious as bad company ; and good thoughts 
solace, instruct, and entertain the mind like good 
company. And this is one great advantage of re« 
tirement; that a man may choose what company 
he pleases, from within himself. 

As, in the world, we oftener light into bad com- 
pany than good, so, in solitude, we are oftener trou-- 
bled with impertiBent and unprofitable thoughts 



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than entertained with agreeable and oftefal ones. 
And a man that hath so far. lost the command of 
hiniselfy as to lie at the mercy of every foolish or 
vexing thought, is much in the same situation as a 
host, whose house is open to all- comers, whom, 
though ever so noisy, rude, and troublesome, he 
cannot get rid of : but with this difference/that the 
latter hath some recompense for his trouble, the 
former none at alL but is rdbbed of his peace and 
quiet for nothing. 

. Of such vast importance to the peace; as well as ' 
the improvement of the mind, is the right regula- 
tion of the thoughts, which will be my apology for 
dwelling so long. on this branch of the subject: 
^hich I shall conclude with this one obscirvation 
more ; that it is a very dangerous thing to think, 
as too many are apt to do, that it is a matter of in- 
difference what thoughts they entertain in their • 
hearts; since the reason of things concurs with the 
testimony of the holy Scripture to assure us, * That 
the allowed thought of foolishness is sin.' Pror. 
xxiv. 9. 

CHAP. XV. 
Concenmtg the Memiaty, 
XIV* 'A MAN, that knows himself, will have a' 
regard, not only to the management of his thoughts, ' 
but the improvement of his memory.' 
. The memory is that faculty of the soul which 
was designed for the storehouse or repository of its 
most useful notions ; where they may be laid up in 
safety, to be produced upon proper occasions. 
• Now, a thorough self-acquaintance cannot be 
had without a proper regard tothis.intwo respects* 
1. Its furniture. 2. Its improvement. 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 13 

1. A man, that knows hhaatAi, will have^a xe^ 
gard to the fomitare of his memory ; not to load it 
with ttash and lumber, a set of useless notions or 
low conceits, which he will be ashamed to prodqcec 
before persons of taste and judgment. 

If the retention be bad, do not crowd it. It is t 
of as ill consequence to overload a weak memory, 
as a weak stomach. And, that it may not be cum<* ; 
hexed with trash, take heed what company you 
keep, what books you read, and what thoughts you 
favour*, otherwise a great deal of useless rubbish 
may fix there before you' are aware, and take up ' 
the room which ought to be possessed by better ; 
notions. But let not a valuable thought slip from 
you, though you pursue it with* much time and 
]>ains before you overtake it. The regaining and' 
xctfixing it may be of more avail to you than many \ 
hours reading. 

W}iat pity is it that men should take 8u6h im'< 
mense pains, as some do, to learn those things,. 
which, as soon as they become wise, they mnst 
take as much pains to unlearn ! a thought that 
should make us very curious and cautious about 
the proper furniture of our minds. 

2. Self-knowledge will acquaint a man with the 
extent and capacity of hi» memoty, and the right- 
way to improve iU 

There is no small att in improving a weak me- 
mory, so as to turn it to as great an advantage as 
many do theirs, which are much stronger. A few 
short rules to this purpose may be no unprofitable 
digression. 

(1.) Beware of all kinds of intemperance in the 
indulgence of the appetites tod passions. Excesses 
of all kinds do a great injuty to the memory. 
(2.) If it be weak, do not overload it. Char-^* 
E 



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74 ATKRAnfiBON 

k mdy iHlb IhB moafc nseiiil and mdid Botioni. A \ 
gnutt vesselslioiild not be staffed minh. hmibeB t bvk f 
ifiti £rei{^t be pradous, and jndiciouBly ateved, ' 
it mmf be moxe valiiable thaa a ship of twice its 
burden. ' 

(&) Becv to the help of a common-place boek, 
aacoidiBg to Mr. Lockers method^ and review ife 
oaee a year. But take care that, by confiding to 
your minutes or memorial aids, you do not exeuse 
the labour of the memory ; which is one diaad- 
maitage attending this method. 

(4k) Take every opportunity of uttering yon best 
thoughts- in conversation, when the aut^ect wift 
admit it: that will deeply imprint thenu Henee, 
the tales which common sfcory-telleis relate tbey 
never forget^ though ever so silly. 

(&) Join to the idea you would remember, some ' 
other that is more familiar to you, which bean 
some similitnde to it, either in its nature, or in the 
aovnd of the word by which it is expressed : or 
ihait hadi some relation to it, eidier in tiaM or 
plaee : and then, by recalling this, which is easily 
vsmembeied, you will (by that concatenation or 
connexion of ideas which Mr. Locke takes notice 
of) draw in that which is thus linked or joined 
whh it ; which otherwise you might hunt after in 
vain. This rule is of excellent ^use to help you to 
remember names. 

(6.) What you are determined to remember, f 
think of before you go to sleep at night, and the first 
thing in the morning, when the faculties are fresh : 
and recollect, at evening, eveiy thing worth re- 
membering the day past. 

(7.) Think itnot enou^ to furnish this storehouse 
of the mind with good thoughts ; but lay them up 
there in order, digested or ranged under proper 



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SELP.KNOWLEDOE. 75 

snbjecti or duns; tliat> whatever siAject yov * 
have occasion to think or talk upon, you may have ' 
TCconne immediately to a good thought^ whiek 
yoa hetetofore land up lliere under tkMt subject^ so ; 
that the very mention of the subject may bring the - 
thouf^t to hand-; by which means you will cany ;. 
a regular cemmon^place book in your memory. . 
And it may not be amisg, aometimoa, to take an • 
inventory of this mental foimtare> and recollect 
how many good thoughts you have there treaaured 
up under such particular subjects, and whence 
you had them. 

(Iiastily,) Nothing helpa the memory more than 
often thinking, writing, or talking, on diose suIh 
jecia yoa would remember. But enough of this. 

CHAP. XVI. 

CoMcBTtiing the MetUat TMte, 

XV.- * A MAN that knows himself, is sensible o£> 
and attentive to, the particular taste ot his mind> 
eepecially in matters of religion/ 

As the late Mr. Howe judiciously observes, 
* there is, beside bare understanding and jndg* 
ment, and diverse from that heavenly gift^whichj 
in the Scripture, is called grace, such a thing aa 
gnst and Mlish belonging to the mind of man (and 
I doubt not, with all men, if they observe them- 
selves), and which are as unaccountable,, and as 
various, as the relishes uid disgusts of sense. 
This they only wonder at who understand not 
theinielves^ or will consider nobody but them- 
fdvM. So that it cannot be said, universally, thai 
it is » better judgment, or more grace, that deter- 
BiBsf tOMk the one way or the other, but som(«- 



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what in the temper of their minds distinct frdm 
both, which I know not how better to express than 
by mental taste ; and this hath no more of mys- 
tery in it, than, thatthere^is such a thing belongs 
ing to our natures as complacency and displacency 
in reference to the objects of the mind. And this, 
in the kind of it, is as common to men as hiunut 
nature ; but as much diversified in individuals as. 
men's other inclinations are.' 

Now this different taste in matters relating tor 
religion (though it may be sometimes natural, or 
what is born with a man, yet) generally arises 
from the difference of education and custom. And 
the true reason why some persons have an invete- 
rate disrelish to certain circumstantials of religion, 
though ever so justifiable, and at the same time a 
fixed esteem for others, that are more exception- 
able, may be no better than what I have heard 
some very honestly profess, viz. that the one they 
have been used to, and the other not. As a per- 
son, by long use and habit, acqmres a greater re- 
lish for coarse and unwholesome food, than the 
most delicate diet, so a person long habituated to 
a set of phrases, notions, and modes, may, by de- 
gioes, come to have such a veneration and esteem 
for them, as to despise and condemn others which 
they have not been accustomed to, though perhaps 
more edifying and more agreeable to Scripture and 
reason. 

This particular taste in matters of religion differ* 
very much (as Mr. Howe well observes) both from 
judgment and grace. 

However, it is often mistaken for both. When 
it is mistaken for the former, it leads to error ; 
when mistaken for the latter, to oensorionsness. 

This different taste of mental objects is mu^h 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 77 

the ^aiae with that which, with regard to the ob« 
jects of sense, we call fancy; for, as one man can* 
not be said to have a better judgment in food than 
another, purely because he likes some kinds of 
tteats belter than he; so neither can he be said 
to have a better judgment in matters of religion, 
purely because he hath a greater fondness for some 
particular doctrines and forms. 

But though this mental taste be not the same as 
the judgment, yet it often draws the judgment to 
it, and sometimes very much perverts it. 

This appears in nothing more evidently than in 
tbe judgment people pass upon the sermons they 
hear. Some are best pleased with those discourses 
that are pathetic and warning, others with what is 
more solid and rational, and others with the sub- 
lime and mystical. Nothing can be too plain for 
the taste of some, or too refined for that of others. 
Some are for having the address only to their rea- 
son and understanding, others only to their aflTec- 
tions and passions, and others to Uieir experience 
and consciences. And every hearer or reader is 
apt to judge according to his particular taste, and 
to esteem him the best preacher or writer who 
pleases him most; without examining, first, his ' 
own particular taste, by which he judgeth. 

It is natural, indeed, for every one to desire to 
liave his own taste pleased ; but it is unreasonable 
in him to set it up as the best, and make it a test 
-and standard to others : but much more unreason- 
able to expect, that he, who speaks in public, 
«h<mld always speak to his taste, which might as 
seasonably be expected by another of a different 
Utste. But it can no more be expected, that what 
is delivered to a multitude of hearers should alike 
suit all their ustes, than that a single dish, though 



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78 A TRBAUSS ON 

prepMed with ey«r so much act and 
■bpttld equally please a great v»riety rf a p p rt a i—g 
among which there nuiy be some pevhaps iiwy 
nice and siokly. 

It is the preacher's duty to adapt his suhjeeta Ae 
the taste of his hearers, as far as fidelity aadcosr 
science yvHl admit; because it is well known £tm* 
reason and experience, as weU as firom the advi4se 
and practice of the apostle Paul, that this is the 
best way to promote their edification. But if their 
taste be totally vitiated, and incline them to ta^ 
in that which will do them more harm than good, 
and to relish poison more than food, the myoet 
charitable thing the preacher can do in that «ase 
is,' to endeavour to cormct so vicious an appetiie> 
which loathes that which is m^st whoUpome, and 
craves that which is pernicious. This, I say, il is 
his .duty to attempt in the most gentle and psadeot 
manner he can, though he run the risk of having 
his judgment or orthodoxy called into question by 
them# as it very possibly may; for, coounpnly, 
they are the most arbitrary and unmerciful judges 
in this case, who are the least able to judge. 

There is not, perhiq>8y a more unaccowtable ' 
weakness in human nature than this, tha^ with 
regard to religious matters, our a n imo f it je s ar^ 
generally greatest where our di£ferences are least; 
they, who come pretty near to our standard, but 
stop short there, are more the object of our di«g«|it 
and censure, than they who continue at the gssa^ 
est distance from it; and it requires the greatept 
knowledge and command of our temper to 0i|0var 
this weakness. To wh^yer aecret spiivg ift li* 
hiwna^ mind itmay be owing^ 1 9M^ WH sUj to 
inq^ie; but the tl^ itself is 499 0hvJ9HP not 10 
)^ taken notice of. 



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SKF-KSKTWIiBDOE. 79 

How, we should, all of ns, be Cftreful to find out : 
and examine our proper taste of religious things ; 
that, if it be a false one> we may rectify it; il^ 
bad on^ mead it; if a tight and good one, strength- , 
en and improve it. For the mind is capable of a 
false taste, as well as the palate, and comes by it 
the same way, vw.'by being long used to unnatural 
yelishes^ which, by 4iustom, become grateful. And 
having found out what it is, and examined it by 
the test af Scripture, reason, and conscience, if it 
be not very wrong, let us indulge it, and read those 
books that are most suited to it, which, for that 
reason, will be most edifying. But, at the same 
time, let us take care of two things ; 1. That it do 
BOt hias our judgment and draw us into error. . 
2. That it do not cramp our charity, and lead us 
te4 



CHAF. xvn. 

Cf &wr fftmi ood ^oeenunjr Fmim «« lAfe* 

XYI. ' Another part of self-knowledge is, to 
know what are the great ends for which we live.' 

We must consider what is the ultimate scope we 
drive at, the general maxims and principles we live 
by, or whether ^we have not yet detennined ova 
end, and are governed by no fixed principles^ or by 
such as we are ashamed to own. 

There are few that live so much at random as 
not to have some main end in eye ; something that 
i n fluences their conduct, and is the great oliject of 
their puzsut and hope. Aman cannot live witb- 
oat fome leading views : a wise man will always 
know what they aie : whethar it is fit he shotdd be 
led by them or no; whether they be such as his 



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80 A TREATISE ON 

understanding and reason approve, or only such 
as fancy and inclination suggest. He will be as 
inUch concerned to act with reason, as to talk 
with reason; as much ashamed of a solecism and 
tontradiction in his character, as in his conver- 
sation. 

Where do our views centre? In this world we 
are in, or in that we are going to? If our hopes 
and joys centre here, it is a mortifying thought^ 
that we are every day ' departing from our happiiSj 
ness;' but if they are fixed above, it is a joy toj 
think that we are every day drawing nearer to the 
object of our highest wishes. 

Is our main care to appear great in the eye of 
man, or good in the eye of God ? If the former, 
we expose ourselves to the pain of a perpetual dis- 
appointment; for it is much, if the envy of men 
do not rob us of a great deal of our just praise, or 
if our vanity will be content with that they allow 
us. But if the latter be our main care, if our chief ^ 
view is, to be approved of God, we are laying up 
a fund of the most lasting and solid satisfactions. 
Not to say that this is the truest way to appear 
great in the eye of men, and to conciliate the es- 
teem of all those whose praise is worth our wish, y 

* Be this, then, O my soul ! thy wise and steady ' 
pursuit; let this circumscribe and direct thy views; 
be this a law to thee, from which account it a siii 
to depart, whatever disrespect or contempt h 
may expose thee to from otliers ; be this the eha« 
racter thou resolvest to live up to, and at all times 
to maintain, both in public and private, viz. a 
friend and lover of Grod; in whose favour thou 
centrest all thy present and future hopes. Carry 
.this view with thee through life, and darenot^ m 
any instance, to act inconsisteady with it/ 



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SBLF.KNOWISDOE. el 



GRAF. XiYUh 

HwtoSnow ihetrmStat&ofom SkfuU; tiiidMeihBt 
WBwreJit to Bi6, 

Lastly^ ' The most impdttant point of ielf'kiunr- 
led|^, alter all, is, to know tlie tme state of our 
souls towards God, uidin What conditionr we aM 
to die/ 

These two things i^e inseparaiHy connected in 
their nature, and therefora I put them togethM. 
The knowledge ol the former will detennine tlM 
latter^ and is the only thidg that can detennine (it : 
for no man cm tell whether he it fit for death, till 
he is acquainted witili the true state of his own 
soul. 

This,* now, is a matter of such vast moment, 
that it is afltWMriug any considerate man, or any ime 
who thinks what it is to die, should rest satisfied 
with an uncertainty in iu Let us trace out this 
important point, then, with all possible plainness^ 
and see 'd we* cannot come to some satisfaction in 
it upon the most solid principles^ 

In order to know, then, whether we are fit to 
die, we must first know, ' whnt it istfiat fits us for 
death?' And the answer tbthis is very natural 
and easy: viz. that only fits us for death, ' that fits 
us for happiuMS alter death/ 

This is certainw But the question returns; 
* What is it that fits us for happiness after deathf 
Naw> in answer to this, theiis is a previous ques- 
tion, neoessaiy to be determined, viz. ' What that 
happiness is?' 

It is not a fool's paradise* or a Turkish dream o* 
E2 



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n uC TREATISE 02f 

senntive gratifications. It must be a happiaess 
suited to the nature of the soul^ and what it is cap> 
pable of enjoying in a stat&of separation from the 
body. And what can that be, but the enjojrment of 
Bod^ the best of beings, and the author of ours ? 

The question, then, comes to this, ' What is that 
which fits us for the enjoyment of Gh>d, in the future 
ftate of separate spirits r 

And, methinks, we may bring this matter to a 
very suie and short Issue, by saying, it is 'that 
which makes us like to him now.' Tiiis only is our 
proper qualification for the enjoyment of him after 
death, and therefore our only proper preparation 
for death. For how can they, who are unlike to 
God here, expect to enjoy 1dm hereafter? And 
if they have no just ground to hope that they shall 
enjoy G^d in the other world, how are they fit to 
die? 

, So that, the great question, ' Am I fit to die ?'/ 
resolves itself into this, ' Am I like to God V for it 
is this only that fits me for heaven ; and that which 
fits me for heaven is the only thing that fits me for 
death. 

Let this point, then, be well searched into, and 
examined very deliberately and impartially. 

Most certain it is, that Ged can take no real 
complacency in any but those that are like him ; 
and it is as certain, that n6ne-but those that are 
like him can take pleasure in him. But Grod is a 
most pure and holy being ; a being of infinite love, 
mercy, and patience; whose righteousness is in- 
variable, whose veracity inviolable, and whose 
wisdom unerring. These are the moral attributes 
ofs the divine- Being, in which he requires. us to 
imitate him ; the express lineaments of the divine 
nature, in which all good men bear a resemblance 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. M 

to him, and for the sake of which only they are i 
the objects of his delight : for God can love none ; 
but those that bear this impress of his own image > 
on their souls. Bo we find, then, these visibl^; 
traces of the diyine image there? Can we make : 
OBt our likeness to him in his holiness, goodness, 
mercy, righteoasness, truth and wisdom ? If so, it . 
is certain we are capable of enjoying him, and are • 
the proper objects of his love. By this, we know . 
we are fit to die, because, by this, we know we are 
fit for happiness after death. . 

Thus, then, if we are faithfiil to our consciences,^ 
and impartial in the examination of our lives and i 
tempers, we may soon come to a right determina-' 
tion of this important question, ' What is the true 
state of our souls towards God f and in what con- 
dition are we to die ?* Which, as it is the most im- , 
portant, so it is the last instance of self-knowledge 
T shall mention, and, with it, dose the first part 
of this subject. * 



PART IL 

Shewing the great Exedlency and AdmoMiaget 
of this kind of Seienee, 

Having in the former part of the subject laid 
open some of the main branches of self-knowledge, 
or pointed out the principal things which a man 
ought to be acquainted with relating to himself, I 
am now, reader, to lay before you the excellency 
and useAilness of this kind of knowledge, as an in- 
ducement to labour alley it, by k detail of the several 



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i* A TREATISE ON 

gnat ady«nta0et mideh attend it> and mhich thall 
ha xeoQuated in 4he following chapters. 

OHAP. I. 

Self-KiKfwkdife ih« Spriag of Sdf^Pmutwn. 

I. 'One great adyantage of self-knowledge is^ that 
it gives a man the truest and most constant self- 
potsessibn/ 

A man that is endowed with this excellent know- 
ledge, is calm and easy. 

1. Under afEronts and defamation. For he thinks 
dius : * I am sore I know myself better than any 
man can pretend to know me. This calumniator 
liath; indeed, at this time, missed his mark, and 
shot his arrows at random ; and it is my comfort, 
that my conscience acquits me of his angry im- 
putation. However, there are worse crimes which 
he might more justly accuse me of, which, though 
hid from him, are known to myself. Let me set 
about reforming them, lest, if they come to his 
notice, he should attack me in a more defenceless 
part, find something to fasten his obloquy, and fix 
a lasting reproach upon my character.' 

There is a great deal of truth and good sense in i 
that common saying and doctrine of the Stoics,, 
though they might ciikiy it too far, that ' it is not 
fjthing?, hut thoughts, diat disturb and hurt us.' 
Kow^ as self-acquaintance teaches a m^ the ijight 
government of the thoughts (as is shewn abpve, 
^art i. chap. 14.), it wiU hel^ hiin to escpel all 
anxious, tormenting, and fruitless tho^ght^^ i^ 
retain the most quieting and n9eful o.9ep> ^ v> 
keep all easy within. ik% ^ ,ij^an hnt txy tjl»e pvgft^ , 



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vimenty aad be wifl find that« litde veioliitioii will 
make the greatest part of the difficully vanish. 

2. Self-knowledge will be a good baflast to the 
mind noder any accidental hany or disorder of the 
paaoions. It .onrbs their impetuosity^ pvts the reins 
into the hands of reason> quells <he rismg storm 
eie it make shipwreck of the conscience^ and teaches 
a man to ,' leave off contention before it be meddled 
with/ Prov. zvii. 14 ; it being much safer to keep 
the Uon chained^ than to encounter it in its fuU 
strength and -foxy. And thus will a wise man^ for 
his awn Tpeace, deal with the pas8ioQ3 of others^ as 
well as Ids own. 

.Self-knowledge^ as it acquaints a man with his 
weaknesses and worst qualities^ will be his guard 
•If^it^em, and a happy counterbalance to the 
faults and excesses of his natural temper. 

3. It will keep the mind sedate and calm under 
the suipn«e of l^ad news, or afflicting providences. 

' For> am I not a creature of God? and my life 
and my comforts, are they not wholly ut his di»> 
poae, ^rani whom I have received them, and by 
whose flavour ^ have so long enjoyed 4liem, and by 
whose meircy and goodness I have still jo many 
left me? 

' A heathen can teach me^ under sijuch losses of 
£ri/end8# or estate^ or any comfort> to direct my eyes 
to the hand of God, by whom it was lent me» and 
is now recalled, that I ought not to say, it as lost, 
b# restored ; and though I be ii^urioualy deprived 
of it;, «tiU the hand of iQod is to he acknowledged ; 
iof, what is it |o me by whait mMos he that gave 
m» fi^ V^SNUtig takes it ivm mt t^iaV^J^tiet. 
.PnQWrtW..cap.l6. 

Be that righUy knows him9df "nU Uve eveiy | 



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86 A TREATISE OTif 

day dependent on the divine Author of his meift ^ 
cies for the continuance and enjoyment of them ; 
and will leam^ from a higher auUiority than t£at 
of a heathen moralist^ that he hath nothing that 
he can properly call his own^ or ought to depend 
upon as such; that he is but a steward employed 
to dispense the good things he possesses, according 
to the direction of his Lord, at whose pleasure he 
holds them, and to whom he should be ready, at any 
time, cheerfully to resign them. Luke xvi. 1. 

4. Self-knowledge will help a man to preserve 
an equanimity and self-possession under all the 
various scenes of adversity and prosperity. 

Both have their temptations. To some, the 
temptations of prosperity are the greatest ; to others, 
those of adversi^. Self-knowledge ahews a man 
which of these are greatest to him; and, at the ap- 
prehension of them, teaches him to arm himself 
accordingly, that nothing may deprive him of his 
constancy and self-possession, or lead him to act 
unbecoming the man or the Christian. 

We commonly say, * No one knows what he can 
bear till he is tried.' And many persons verify the 
observation, by bearing evils much better than they 
feared they should. Nay, the apprehension of an I 
approaching evil often gives a man a greater pain I 
than the evil itself. This is owing to inexperience! 
and self-ignorance. ' 

A man, that knows himself his own strength and 
weakness^ is not so subject as others to the melan- 
choly presages of the imagination; and, whenever 
they intrude, he makes no other use of them than 
to-Uke the warning, collect himself > and prepars 
for the coming evil, leaving the degree, doratioa, 
and the issue of k^ with him who is the sovereign 



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self-knowledge. 87 

Diaposer of all events, in a quiet dependence on his 
power^ wisdom^ and goodness. 

Such self-possession is one great effect and ad- | 
vantage of self-knowledge. 4 

CHAP. II. 

Sdf'Knowledge leada to a unte and tteadgf Conduei. 

II. * As self-knowledge will keep a man calm and' ' 
eqnal in his temper, so it will make him wise and 
cautions in his conduct/ 

A precipitant and rash cObduct is ever the effect 
of a confused and irregular hurry of the thoughts. 
80 that, when, by the influence of self-knowledge, 
the thonghto become cool, sedate, and rational, the 
conduct will be so too. It will give a man that even, 
steady, uniform behaviour in the management of 
his affairs, that is so necessary for the dispatch of 
bnsinesi, and prevent many disappointments and 
tzonbles, which arise from the unsuccessful exe- 
cution of immature or ill-judged projects. 

In short, most of the troubles which men meet 
with in the world may be traced up to this source, 
and resolved into self-ignorance. We may com- 
plain of Providence, and complain of men ; bnt the 
fault, if we examine it, will commonly be found to 
be our own. Our imprudence, which ariseB from 
self-ignorance, either brings our troubles upon us 
or increases them. Want of temper and conduct 
will make any affliction double. 

What a long train of difficulties do sometimes 
proceed from one wrong step in our conduct, which 
self-ignorance, or inconsideration, betrayed us into ! 
And every evil that be£sls us, in consequence of 
that> we are to chwrge upon ourselves. 



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88 A TKEATK* OV 

CSAP. IIIv 

HumOUy, the Effect of Self-Knowledge. 

III. 'True self-kna^ledgb always produces hu- 
mility/ 

Bridie is ever the offspring' of self-ignora&ce. 
Tin reason men are vaiA and sell-flaffident ia, be* 
cause fhey db not know their own failings ;' tmA 
the reason they are not better acquainted with them 
is, because they hate sel^inspectiom Let a lAan ' 
but tuni his eyes widiin, scrutinize hiaaself, and 
study his owii heart, «nd he will soon see enough 
to make him humble. * Behold I atai vile/ (Job 
. xL 4.) is dke language only of self-knowledge. 

Whenee is it that young, people are generally ao 
vain> sel^sufficient, and assured, but because they ; 
have taken no time or pains >to cultivate a se]f«ac- j 
quaintanoe? And wiiy does pride aikd sfciffiiaas i 
appear so often in advaniced age, but beeiinse men I 
gflow^ dd in ael^ignoaanee ? A moderate degiee 
of aell'^kaiowledgo Would cure an inoidinate degree 
of self-comj^aceney. 

Humility is not more neoessaiy to salvation, th«h» 
8el£faiowledge is to humility. 

And espedlilly would it preiwnt that bad dispo« , 
sition which is too apt to steal upon and infect |^ 
seme of the best human minds, especially those; 
who aim at singular and exalted degrees of piety* > 
vm4 ft religious vanity, or spiiitoal pride; whkh, ! 
without a great deal of sell-knowledge and self- 
itteittien, will gradually insinuate into the heart, . 
tmat the mind> and sophisticate our virtues, bo^ 
fore we are awafe; and, in propertioii to its ffie^ ' 



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SELP-KNOWLEBOE. «9 

Irttlence, make the Christian temper degenerate 
into the Pharisaical. 

* Might I be allowed to choose my own lot, I 
ehonld think it much more eligible to want my 
spiritoal comforts, than to abound in these, at the 
expense of my humility. No; let a penitent and ' 
contrite spirit be always my portion; and may I i 
ever so be the favourite of Heaven, as never to ' 
forgetthatlamchief of sinners. Knowledge in the ' 
sublime and glorious mysteries of the Christian 
faith, and ravishing contemplations of God and a . 
fiiture state, are most desirable advantages; but , 
still I prefer charity, which edifieth, before the ) 
highest intellectual perfections of that knowledge ( 
which pnfieth up; 1 Cor. viii. 1. Those spiritual/ j 
advantages are certainly best for us, which increase i 
our modesty, and awaken our caution, and dispose - . 
us to suspect and deny ourselves. The highest in j 
God's esteem are meanest in their own; and their i 
excellency consists inj h e meekness and truth, pot j 
i n the pornt^ and ostentancSi of plet yji^ which affects. . 
to be seen and admired of men/— Stanhope^s Tho» \ f 
a Kempu, book ii. ch* 11. * 



CHAP« IV. 

CharUg, amothar effect of Self-Knowiedge. 

IV. * Self-knowledge greatly promotes a spirit ' 
of meekness and charity.* 

The more a man i« acquainted with his own fail- 
ings, the more is he disposed to make allowances 
for those of others. The knowledge he hath of him- 
self will incline him to be as severe in his animad'- . 
venions on his own conduct as he is on that ^ I 



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•tiboBi^ and M candid to Aear £Mdt8 at lie is to liM * 

own. I 

Then u an umpommon beauty* lorce^ and pro- 
pnetf, in that caution wltich oar Saviow giyea iia. 
Matt vii. a--5. * And why beholdeittlMNi the mote 
that is in thy biother's eye, but consideiest net the 
beam that is in thine own eye t' Or how wilt then 
say to thy brother. Let me puU oat the mote out of 
thine eye, and behold a beam is in thine own ^e f 
Thou hypocrite, first cast the beam outof thine own 
eye^ and then shalt thou see cleaily to cast out the 
note out of €iy brother's eye/ In wlndh words 
these four things are plaiidy intimated. <1.) That 
some are much more quick-aigfated to discern the 
faults and blemishes of others than their own; can 
spy a mote in another's eye, sooner than a beam in 
their own. And commonly it is so ; they who are 
most quid^-sigbted te the faults of others, are most 
blind to their own. (2.) That they are often the 
most forward and officious to correct and cure the - 
foUiM of others, who an most unfit for it. The 
beam in their own eye makes them altogether unfit . 
to pull out the mote from their brother's. A man | 
half blind himself, should never set up for an oculist. .< 
(3.) That they who are inclined to deal in censure ■- 
should always begin at home. (4.) Great cen-' 
seriousness is great hypocrisy. *Thou hypocrite,' i 
&c AU this is nothing but the elFectof woefd self- 
ignorance. 

This common failing of the human nature the - : 
hftft» bp "« were very sensible of, and represented it ' 
)a the Allowing manner. Eveiy man, say they, | 
l^anries a wallet, or two bags with him ; the one j 
hft" ri Tg before him, the other behind him ; in that ^ 
b^re> he puts the faults Qf others; into that be- ; 



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SBliF-KNOWLEDGE. tt 

^inil, has own; by vhidi mfians be iMwtat we» Ut j j 
oim foilkigSy vhilst be bas tboie of otben wXwyt \ } 
beCose bis eyes. 

JBut self-knowledge^ now^ belps us to torn flus 
wallety and place tbat wbicb batb oar own fanhs, 
before oar eyes, and tfiat wbicb batb in it tbose of 
•(ben, bebiad onr back. A reiy neeessaiy regu- ^ 
li^n tbis, if yte would bebold our own faohs in tbe 
same ligbt in wbicb tbey do ; for we must not ex- 
peet tbat otbeis will be as blind to our foibles as we 
oniaelves are^ tbey will carry tbem before their 
egfSBSy wbetber we do or no. And to imagine tbat 
the world takes no notice of tbem, beeause we de 
aot, is JQst as wise as to fancy tbat otben do not 
•ee OS, because we shot our «yes. 



CHAP. y. 

ModertUum, ffte effect of Mf-KnowMge, 

y. ' Another genuine ofi^ring of self43u»wle(|g^^ 
AS qotoderation.' 

This^ indeed, can bardly be ooa/ceived to be sep^- 
leate £ipjn tbat meelmess and cbarila^ before-meno 
tipasd ; bat I cboose to give it a distinct mention^ 
Itecanse I consider it under a different viei^r and 
Cf«aqtMion^ viz. as tbat wbicb guards and influences 
Onr ^gin^ in all matters of debate and controversy. 

M9d^ration is a great and important Cbristian 
virtue, veiy diffieirent from tbat bad quality of tbe 
t6b'' under wbicb it is o&esx, misrepresented and 
dJugmwl, vijE. bikewaxmness and indi£Eerence about 
tb^ trqtb. Tbe ^xpaae if very consistent witb a 
iagi]}iur wad velUorsspted ^eal ; tbs latter consists 
i» 1^ *otml wa«t oie M: tbe lonner ia scuasible of, < 



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9S A TREATISE OK 

tluoi the dignity and importance of divine doctrines ^ j 
Mie latter hath no manner of concern about them : < 
the one feela the secret influences of them; the { 
other is quite a stranger to their power and efficacy : | 
the one laments, in secret, the sad decay of vital ; 
religion ; the other is an instance of it. In short, ^ 
the one proceeds from true knowledge, the other 
from great ignorance; the one is a good mark of 
sincerity, the other a certain sign of hypocrisy. 
And to confoond two things together, whidi are so 
essentially different, can be the effect of nothing 
but great ignorance or iuconsideration, or an over"* 
heated, injudicious zeal. 

A self-knowing man can easily distinguish he» 
tween these two. And the knowledge which he 
has of human nature in general, from a thorough 
contemplation of his own in particular, shews him 
the necessity of preserving a medium (as in every 
thing else, so especially) between the two extremes 
of a bigoted zeal on the one hand, and an indolent 
Ittkewarmness on the other. As he will not look ^ 
upon every thing to be worth contending for, so, he ' 
will look upon nothing worth losing his temper fori 
in the contention; because, though the truth be of! 
ever so great importance, nothing can be of a greater 
disservice to it, or make a man more incapable of 
defending it, than intemperate heat and passioni 
whereby he injures and betrays the cause he isovei^ 

I anxious to maintain . ' The wrath of man worketh 
not the righteousness of God;' James i. 20. 
Self-knowledge heals our animosities, and gready 
cools our debates about matters of dark and doubts 
ful specolation. One who knows himself, ieti too ^ 
great a value upon his time and temper, to plunge j 
rashly into those vain and fruitless controvefsies^ { 
in which one of them is sure to be 10ft> and the { 



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Self-knowledge. 99 

•th«Y in great danger of being so ; espedally when 
a man of bad temper and bad principles is the op- 
ponent; who aims rather to silence his adversary 
^th overbearing confidence, daik unmeaning lan"> 
guage, aathoritative airs^ and hard words, than 
convince him with solid argument ; and who plainly 
/contends^ not for truth, but for victory. Little good 
Mn be done to the best cause in such a circum- 
stance. And a wise and moderate man, who knows 
human nature, and knows himself, will rather give 
his antagonist the pleasure of an imaginary tri- 
Timph, than engage in so unequal a combat. 

An eagerness and zeal for dispute on every sub- 
ject, and with every one, shews great self-suffi- 
ciency, that never-failing sign of great self-igno- 
nmce. And true moderation, which consists in an 
hidxffBrence about little things, and in a prudent 
and well-proportioned zeal about things of import- 
ance, can proceed from nothing but true knowledge, 
which has its foundation in self-acquaintanoe. 



CHAP. VI. 

Seif'KnowUdge knprote* the Judgtnmit* 

VI. 'Another great advantage of being well 
acquainted with ourselves is, that it helps us to 
form a better judgment of other things.' 

Self-knowledge, indeed, does not enlarge or in- 
crease our natural capacities, but it guides and re- 
gulates them; leads us to the right use and appli- 
cation of them ; and removes a great many things 
which obstruct the due exercise of them, as pride, 
prejudice^ and passion, &c. which oftratimes so 
nuserably pervert the rational powers. 



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M A TKEATfSB OK 

fie tfaiKtliatli taken a just nBeaniM of Idinidf, i« 
tlmreby betMr alkie to judge of other tUnnga, 

!• He kiuMTS how to judge of aaenr and bnnum 
nature better. Vat human nature^ setthig aside the 
d^foienee of natural genius^ and the impifKremema 
of education atnd xeligion, is pietty mudL the soaaie 
in all. There are the aaue passionB aad appetkea^ 
the game natnral infinnities and inciinalioDa in wXL, 
tiunigh gome aie more prodommast aad diMitti* 
goiahaUe in some than they are in othen* Sothat^ 
if a man be hut well acquainted with hiaowv^ thia^ 
togeth^ with a very little observation on the waya 
of men> will soon discover to him those of others, 
and shew him very impartially the particular ftdl^ 
inga and exeellencies of men, and help him to farm 
a much truer sentiment of them, than if he were to 
judge onty by their exterior, the appearance thej 
make in the eye of the world (than which some- 
times nothing shews them in a falser light), or hy 
popular opiaioBs and prejudices. 

2. Self-knowledge will teach us to judge rightly 
of facts, as well as men. It will exhibit things to 
the mind in their ftrbper light and true colours, 
without those false glosses and appearances which, 
fancy throws upon tibem, or in which the hnagina- 
lion often paints them. It will teach us to judg^ 
not with the imagination, but with the understand- 
ing ; and will set a guard upon the former^ whicli 
so often represents things in wrong views, and 
gives the mind false impressions of them. See 
part i. chap. 4. 

3. It helps us to estimate the true value of aA 
worldly good things. It rectifies our notions of 
them, and lessens that enormous esteem we are 
apt to have for them. For, when a man knows him* 
aelf, and his true interests, he will see how hi. 



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SEU-KKOWUBDOS. 9& 

•nd ittwKat degrae> these thlsge an Miitable tA luniy 
and snfaMrneat to hit good; and how far they ara 
MitnitBblc> eamaring, and permdow. Thia^ and 
not the oommon opinion of tha wodd, will be hia 
nle. of jadging eonceming theni« By this>> he will 
aes futte thnms^ them; aee what they really are 
at bottom^ and how fax a wiae man ought to deaire 
iJiem. The reason why men value them so c 
Tagantly ia, becanae they take a superficial view t 
diem, and only look upon their outside, where they 1 
aam moat showy and inviting. Were they to look! 
within them, consider their intrinsic worth, their { 
ondnary efibcts, their tendency, and their end,! 
dMy wottld not be so apt to overraloe them. Andi 
a man Uiat has leaned to aee thsongh himself, eaa( 
easily see through these. 

CHAP. VII. 

Self-Knowledge direcft to the pnper e»erd$e of 
Saf-BenM. 

VII. 'A MAN that knows himself, best knows 
how, and wherein, he ought to deny himself/ 

The great duty of self-denial, which our Saviour 
so expressly requires of all his followers (plain and 
necessary as it is), has been much mistaken ai)d 
abused, and that not only by the church of Rome, 
in their doctrines of penance, fasts, and pilgrim^' 
ages, but by some Protestant Christians, in 'the 
instances of voluntary abstinence, and unnecessary 
austerities ; whence they are sometimes apt to be 
too censorious against those who indulge themselves 
in the use of those indifferent things, which they 
make it a point of conscience to abstain from.^ 
Whereas, would they conj&ne their exercise of seU-j 



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denial to the plain and important points of CSuia-f 
tian practice^ devoutly peifonnidg the neceasaiy 
duties they are most averse to^ and resolutelj^ 
avoiding the known sins they are most inclined to, 
under the direction of Scripture, they would soon 
become more solid, judicious, and exemplary 
Christians. And did Uiey know themselves, they 
would easily see, that herein there is occasion and 
scope enough for self-denial, and that to a degree' 
of greater severity and difficulty than there is in 
those little corporeal abstinences and mortifications, 
they enjoin themselves. 

1. Self-knowledge will direct us to thenecessary 
exercises of self«denial, with regard to the duties 
our tempers are most averse to. 

There is no one, but at some times, finds a great 
backwardness and indisposition to some duties, 
which he knows to be seasonable and necessary. 
This, then, is a proper occasion for self-discipline. 
For, to indulge this indisposition is veiy dangerous^ 
and leads to an habitual neglect of known duty; 
and to resist and oppose it, and prepare for a dili 
gent and faithful discharge of dxe duty, notwith* 
standing the many pleas and excuses tiiat carnal 
disposition may urge for the neglect of it, this re- 
quires no small pains and self-denial, and yet is 
very necessary to the peace of conscience. 

And, for our encouragement to this piece of self- 
denial, we need only remember, that the diificillty 
of the duty, or our unfitness for it, will, upon the 
trial, be found to be much less than we apprehend; ' 
and the pleasure of reflecting, that we have dis- ' 
charged our consciences, and given a fresh testi-j 
mony of our uprightness, will more than compensate/ 
the pains and difficulty we found therein. And the'i 
oftener these criminal propensions to the wilfulj 

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ldSLFa:NOWLEDG£. 97 

neglect of duty wre opposed aud oveicomey the 
•eldomer will they return, or the weaker will they 
grow, till at la«t> by divine grace, they will be 
wholly vanquished, and, in the room of them, will 
succeed an habitual * readiness to every good work,' 
Tit. iii. I, and a very sensible delight therein; & 
much happier effect than can be expected from the 
severest exercises of self-denial in the instances 
before-mentioned. 

2. A man that knows himself, will see an equal 
necesMty for self-denial, in order to check and con- 
trol his inclinations to sinful actions ; to subdue the 
rebel within ; to resist the soUdtattons of sense and 
appetite; to summon all his wisdom to avoid the 
occasions and temptations to sin^ and all his strength 
to oppose it. 

All this (especiaHy if it be a favourite or a con- 
stitutional iniquity) will cost a man pains and mor- 
tification enough ; for instance, the subduing a vio- 
lent passion, or taming a sensual indinaXion, or 
forgiving an apparent injury and affiront. It is evi- 
dent such a self-conquest can never be attained 
without mudi self^mowledge and self-denial. 

And that self-denial that is exercised this way, 
as it wiU be a better evidence of our sincerity, so 
it will be more helpful and ornamental to the in- 
erests of religion,.than the greatest zeal in those 
particular duties which are more suitable to our 
natural temper, or than the greatest austerities in 
some particular instances of mortification, which 
axe not so necessary, and perhaps not so difficult or 
disagreeable to us as this. 

To what am a wpg heights of piety may some be 

thought to mounts (raised on the wings of aflaming 

seal, and diftinguuhed. by uneommon predseness 

and severity about little lidngs), who all the while, 

F 



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perhapf^ cannot govern one paasion^ and ttpptot 
yet ignorant of, and ilaves to, tlieir darling iniquity I 
Through an ignorance of themielves^they miaapply 
their zeaJ, and misplace their self-deniad, and, by 
that means, blemish their characters with a visible 
inconsis^cy« 

CHAP. VIII. 

Self' Knowledge promotet our Usefidnesa in the 
World. 

YIII. ' The more we know of ourselves, the more 
usefol we are like to be in those stations of life in 
which Providence hath fixed as/ 

' When we know onr proper talents and capacities, 
we know in what manner we are capable of being 
useful; and the consideration of our characters and 
relatiens in life will direct us to the proper appU« 
cation of those talents; shew us to what ends they 
were given us, and to what purposes they ought to 
be cultivated and improved. 

It is a sad thing to observe, how miserably some 
men debase and prostitute their capacities. Those 
gifts and indulgenoea of nature, by which they out* 
shine many others, and by which they are capable 
of doing real service to the cause of virtue and re* 
ligion, and of being eminently useful to mankind, i 
they either entirely neglect, or shamefully abuse,! 
to the dishonour of God, and the prejudice of thcirl 
fellow"Creatures^ by encoi^raging and emboldening] 
them in the ways of vice and vanity. For the fidse 
glare of a profane wit will sometimes make such 
strong impressions on a weak unsettled mind, as to 
overbear the prindplee of reason and wisdom-, and 
give it too favourable ientimenfes of what it before 



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SUP-KNOWLEDGE. I 

abhorred; whereas, the game foree and 8pright-[ 
liness of genius would have been veiy happily} 
and usefully employed in putting sin out of coun- 1 
tenanoe, and in rallying the follies, and exposing ] 
the inconsistencies, of a vicious and profligate cha- 
xacter. 

When a man once knows where his strength Ues, 
wherein he e^tcels, or is capable of excelling, how 
far his influence extends, and in what station of life 
Providence hath fixed him, and the duties of that 
station, he then knows what talents he ought to 
cultivate, in what manner and to what objects they . 
are to be particularly directed and applied, in order 
to shine in that station, and be useful in it. This 
will keep him even and steady in his pursuits and 
views, consistent with himself, uniform in his con- 
duct, and useful to mankind ; and will prevent his 
shooting at a wrong mark, or missing the right 
mark he aims at, as thousands do for want of this 
necessary branch of self-knowledge. — See part i. 
chap. 5. 

CHAP. I3f. 

Sel/'Knowledge leads to a Decorum and co mitie n eff 
of Character, 

IX. ' A M AN that knows himself, knows how to act 
with discretion and dignity in every station and 
character.' 

Almost all the ridicule we see in the world takes 
its rbe from self-ignorance. And to this, mankind, 
by common assent, ascribe it, when they say of a 
person that acts out of character, he does not know 
himself. Affectation is the spring of all ridicule, 
uad self-ignorance the true source of affectation. 



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100 A TREATISE OK 

A man that doet not know his proper character^ 
nor what becomes it> cannot act suitably to it. He 
will often affect a character which does not beldng 
to him ; and will either act above or beneath him- 
sel£> which will make him equally contemptible in 
the eyes of them that know him. 

A man of superior rank and character, that 
knows himself, knows that he is but a man ; snh- 
ject to the same sicknesses^ frailties, disappoint- 
ments, pains, passions, and sorows, as other men ; 
that true honour lies in those things in which it is 
possible for the meanest peasant to exceed him, 
and therefore he will not be vainly arrogant. He 
knows that they aro only transitory and accidental 
things that set him above the rest <rf mankind ; that 
he will soon be upon a level with them ; and thero- 
fore learns to condescend : and then is a dignity in 
this condescension ; it does not sink, but exalts hia 
reputation and character. 

A man of inferior rank, that knows himself,' 
knows how to be content, quiet, and thankful in 
his lower sphen: As he has not an extravagant 
veneration and esteem for those external things 
which raise one man's circumstances so much above 
another's, so he does not look upon himself as the 
worse or less valuable man for not having them; 
much less does he envy them that have them. As 
he has not their advantages, so neither has he 
their temptations ; he is in that state of life which\ 
the great Arbiter and Disposer of all things hathj 
allotted him, and he is satisfied : but as a deference! 
is owing to external superiority, he knows how to ■ 
pay a proper respect to those that are above him, ^ 
without that abject and servile cringing, which dls- '. 
covers an inordinate esteem for their condition. 
As he does not over-esteem them 'for those little; 



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Self-knowledge. loi 

accidental advantages in which they excel him, sot 
neither does he oveiwvalae himself for those thingsl 
in which he excels others. ^ 

Were hearers to know themselves, they would 
not take upon them to dictate to their preachers^ or 
teaeh their ministers how to teach them (which^ as 
St. Austin observes^ is the same thing as if a 
patient, when he sends for a physician, should 
preaciibe to him what he would have him pre- 
scribe); but, if they happen to hear something not 
quite agreeable to their former sentiments, would 
betake themselves more diligently to the study of 
their Bibles to know, ' whether those things were 
so;' Acts xvii. 11. 

And were ministers to know themselves, they 
would know the nature and duty of their office, 
and the wants and infirmities of their hearers, 
better, than to domineer over their fiedth, or shoot 
over their heads, and seek their own popularity 
rather than their benefit. They would be more so* 
licitous for their edification than their approbation ; 
and, like a faithful physician, would earnestly in- 
tend and endeavour their good, though it be in a 
way they may not like ; and rather risk their own 
characters with weak and captious men, than 
- <^ withhold anything that is needful for them,^ or 
be unfaithful to God and their own consciences. 
The most palatable food is not always the most 
wholesome. Patients must not expect to be always 
pleased, nor physicians to be always applauded* 



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102 A TREATISE OK 

CHAP. X. 
Piety, the effect of Self-Knowledge. 

X. 'Self-knowledge tends greatly to cultivate 
a spirit of true piety.' 

Ignorance is so far fnm bemg the mother of 
4evotioii> that nothing is more destmctiye to it. 
And of all ignorance none is a greats bane to it 
than self-ignoianoe. This^ indeed, is very con- 
sistent with superstition^ bigotry* and enthusiasm, 
those common counterfeits of piety, ^diich by weak 
and credulous minds are often mistaken for it. 
But true pietjr and real dcTOtion can only spring 
from a just knowledge of God and ourselves; and 
the relation we stand in to him, and the depend- 
ence we have upon him. For when we consider 
ourselves as the creatures of God, whom he made 
for his honour, and as creatures incapable of any 
happiness but what results from his favour, and 
as entirely and continually dependent upon him 
for every thing we have and hope for: and whilst 
we bear this thought in our minds ; what can in- 
duce or prompt us more to love^ and to fear, and 
trust him as our God, our father, and all-sufficient 
friend and helper? 

CHAP. XI. 

Self'KfUwledge teaches tu rightly topetform the 
Duties of Religion, 

XI. Self-Knowledge will be a good help and 
direction to us in many of our religious duties and 
Christian exercises.' Particularly, 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 103 

1. In tlie daty of prayer; both as to the matter 
•Hid the mode. He that rightly knows himself, 
wiU be yexy sensible of his spiritual wants ; and 
be that is well acquainted with his q>iritual wants, 
will not be at a lose what to pray for. 'Our 
hearts would be the best prayer-books, if we Were 
flkilfol in reading them. Why do men pray, iftid 
call for prayers, when they come to die; but thftt 
Ihey begin a little better to know themselves? 
And were they now but to hear the voice of God 
and conscience, they would not remain speechless. 
But they that are bom deaf are always dumb.'— 
Baapter. 

Again, self-knowledge will teach us to pray, not 
only with fluency^ but fervency $ will help us to 
keep the heart, as well as order our speech, before 
God; and so promote the grace as well as gift of 
prayer. Did we but seriously consider what we 
•re» and what we are about; whom we pray to, 
and what we pray for; il is impossible we should 
be so dead, spiritless, and formal in this duty as 
we too often are. The very thought would inspire 
ns with life, and faith, and fervour. 

2. Self-knowledge will be very helpful to us in 
the duty of thanksgiving: as it makes us mindful- 
of the mercies we receive ; the suitableness and 
the seasonableness of them. A self-knowing taian 
cfHuiders what he hath, as well as what he wants; 
is at once sensible, both of the value of his mercies, 
and has unwoxthiness of themi and this is what 

makes him thankful. For this naaeii it is> that 
one ChrktiaiK's heart even melts with grathnde for 
those very mercies which others disesteem and 
<tepreciate, «ad perhaps despise, because they have 
not what they think greater. But a man that knows 
himselfj knows that he deserves nothings and there- 



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Ifore is thankful for every thing. For thankfulness 
as necessarily flows from homility, as humility doet 
from self-acquaintance. 
3. In the duties of reading and hearing the word 
of God, self-knowledge is of excellent U8e> to enable 
US to understand and apply that which we read or 
hear. Did we understand our hearts better, we 
should understand the word of God better, for that 
speaks to the heart. A man that is aioquainted with 
his heart, easily sees how it penetrates and explores, 
searches, and lays open its most inward parts. He 
feels what he reads; and finds that a quickening 
spirit, which, to a self-ignorant man, is but a dead 
letter. 

Moreover, this self-aoquaintanoe teaches a man 
to apply what he reads and hears of the word of ^ 
God ; he sees the pertinence, congruity, and suit- 
ableness of it to his own case; and lays it up faith- 
fully in the store-room of his mind, to be digested 
and improved by his after-thoughts. And it is by 
this art of aptly applying Scripture, and urging the 
most suitable instructions and admonitions of it 
home upon our consciences, that we receive the 
greatest benefit by it. 

4. Nothing is of more eminent service in the 
great duty of meditation, especially in that part of 
it Which consists in heut-converse. A man, who 
is unacquainted with himself, is as unfit to converse 
with his heart, as he is with a stranger he never 
saw, and whose taste and temper he is altogether 
unacquainted with : he knows not how to get hi* 
thoughts about him ; and when he has, he knows 
not how to range and fix them, and hath no more 
the conmiand of ihem, than a general has of a wild 
undisciplined army, that has been never exercised 
or accustomed to obedience and order. But mubA 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 1(» 

who hath made it the study of his life to be «o« 
qiudnted with himself, is soon disposed to entev 
into a free and fomiliar converse with his own 
heart; and in such a self-conference improves mora 
in true wisdom, and acquires more usefol and sah* 
stantial knowledge, than he could do from the most 
polite, and refined conversation in the world. Of 
such excellent use is self-knowledge in all the 
daiies of piety and devotion. 

CHAP. XII. 
Self-Knowledge, the best Preparation for Death, 

XII. ' Self-knowledge will be an habitual pre- 
paration for death, and a constant guard against the 
surprise of it,' because it fixes and settles our hopes 
of future happiness. That which makes the thoughts 
of death so terrifying to the soul, is its utter un- 
ceitavB^ what will become of it after death. Were 
this uncertainty but removed, a thousand things 
would recondle uh to the thoughts of dying. 

'Dtatnut and darkness of s fvtufe state» 

Is that which makes mankind to dread their fate : 

Djbtg is nothing ; kat 'tis this we fear. 

To he we know not what, we know not where.' 

Nov> self-knowledge, in a good degree^ removes 
this uncertainty : for, as the word of God hath re- 
vealed the certainty of a future sute of happiness/ 
which good men shall enter upon after death, and. 
plainly described the requisite qualifications for it; 
wh^n a good man, by a long and laborious self-i 
acquaintance, comes distinctly to discern those 
qualifications in himself, his hopes of heaven soon 
raise him above the fears of death; and though he 
F2 



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vtky not be able to form any dear or distinct eem- 
caption of the nature of that happinese^ yet, in 
general, he Ib assured that it will be a most ezqni^ 
site and satisfying one, and will contain in it every 
thing necessazy to make it complete, because it will 
come immediately from God himself. Whereas, 
they who are ignorant what they are, mutt neoe8> 
sarily be ignorant what they shall be. A man thnt 
is all darkness within, can have but a dark prospect 
forward. 

O ! what would we not give for solid hope 
death! Reader! wouldst thon have it, know Godj 
and know thyself. 



?jl 



PART HI. 



Shewing how Sdf-KnowMge it tor he attained, 

Prom what hath been said under the two fomker 
parts of this subject, self-knowledge appears to be 
in itself so excellent, and its effects so extensively 
useful and conducive to the happiness of human 
kind, that nothing need further be added by way 
of motive or inducement to excite us to make it 
the great object of our study and pursuit. If we 
regard our present peace, satisfaction, and useful- 
ness, or bur future and everlasting interests, we 
shall certainly value and prosecute this knowledge 
above all others, as what will be most ornamental 
to our characters, and beneficial to onr interest, in 
every state of life, and abundantly reconq>eiise all 
•nr labour* 
Were there need of any further motives to excite 



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107 



xa to this, I might lay open the many dreadftil 
effects of ftelf-ignorance> and shew how plainly U . 
appears to be the original spring of all the follies 
sold incongraities we see in the characters of men, 
and of most of the mortifications and miseries they 
meet with here. This would soon appear, by only 
mentioning the reverse of those advantages before 
specified, which naturally attend self-knowledge : 
for what is it, but a want of self-lnsowledge and 
«elf-govemment, that makes ns so tmsettled and 
volatile in our dispositions? so subject to transport 
and excess of passions in the varying scenes of life? 
so rash and unguarded in our conduct? so vain 
and self-sufficient? so censorious and malignant? 
•o eager and confident? so little useful in the 
world, to what we might be ? so inconsistent with 
ourselves? so mistaken in our notions of true re- 
ligion? so generally indisposed to, or unengaged 
in, the holy exercises of it? and, finally, so unfit 
for death, and so afraid of dying? I say, to wha 
is all this owing, but self-ignorance ? — the first and 
fruitful source of all this long train of evils. And, 
indeed, there is scarce any, but what may be traced 
up to it. In short, it brutifies man, to be ignorant 
of himself. 'Man that is in honour, and under- 
standeth not (himself especially), is as the beasts 
that perish -/ Psalm xlix. 20. 

'Come home, then, O my wandering, self-ne- 
glecting soul ! lose not thyself in a wilderness ot 
tumult of impertinent, vain, distracting things. 
Thy work is nearer thee : the country thou shouldst 
first survey and travel is within thee, from which 
thou must pass to that above thee; when, by losing 
thyself in this without thee, thou wilt find thyself* 
hffon thoTi art aware, jn that below thee. Let the j 



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eye* of fools be in the comen of the eartib ; leave 
it to men beside themselves, to live ms withoot 
themselves ; do thou keep at home, and mind thine 
own business ; survey th]rself, thine own make and 
nature, and thou wilt find fall employ for all thy 
most active thoughts. But dost thou delight in 
the mysteries of natuxe? consider well the mysteiy 
of thy own. The compendium of all thou stodieat 
is near thee, even within thee ; thyself beii^ the 
epitome of the world. If either necessity or duty, 
nature or grace, reason or faith, internal induce- 
ments, external impulses, or etemal motives, might 
determine the subject of thy study and contem- 
plation, thou wouldst call home thy distracted 
thoughts, and employ them more on thyself and 
thy God.'^ Baxter's MucMef of Self-Ignorance, 

Now, then, let us resolve, Uiat, henceforth, the' 
study of ourselves shall be the business of our 
lives I that, by the blessing of Gh>d, we may airive 
at such a degree of self-knon^ledge, as may secure 
to us the excellent benefits before mentioned : to 
which end we would do well to attend diligently to 
the rules laid down in the following chapters. 



CHAP. I. 

Self-Examination neeeuairy to S^f-Knowiedge, 

I. 'The first thing necessary to self-knowledge is 
self-inspection/ 

. We must often look into our hearts, if we would 
know them. They are very deceitful: more so 
than any man can think, till he has searched, and 
tried, and watched them. We may meet with frauds 
and faithless dealings from men, but, after all, our 
own hearts are the greatest cheats, and thexe are 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 109 

none, we are in greater danger ftom than oureelve^. 
We mnat lint sosDect ourtelves, then escamine our- 
selves, then watch ourselves, if we expect ever to 
know ourselves. How is it possible there should 
be any self-acquaintance without self-converse? 

Were a man to accustom himself to such self- 
employment, he need not live ' till thirty before he 
suipects himself a fool, or till forty before he knows 
iU'^Night ThoughU, part i. 

Men could never be so bad as they are, if they 
did but take a proper care and scope in this busi- 
ness of self-examination ; if they did but look back- 
wards to what they were, inwards to what they are, 
and forwards to what they shall be. 

And as this is the first and most necessaiy step 
to self-acquaintance, it may not be amiss to be a 
little more particular in it. Therefore, 

1. This business of self^crutiny must be per- 
formed with great care and diligence, otherwise 
0ur hearts will deceive us even whilst we are ex- 
amining them. ' When we set ourselves to think, 
some trifle or other presently interrupts and draws 
us off from any profitable recollection. Nay, we 
ourselves fly out, and are glad to be diverted from 
a severe examination into our own state; which is 
su:re, if diligently pursued, to present us with ob- 
jects of shame and sorrow, which will wound out 
sight, and soon make us weary of this necessary 
wiok.'-^Sitmhope's Thomat a JTemfMt, p. 166. 

Do not let ns flatter ourselves, then, that this i« 
a mighty easy business ; much pains and care are 
necessary sometimes to keep the mind intent, and 
more to keep it impartial; and the difllculty of it 
18 the reason that so many are averse to it, and 
cave not to descend into themselves. 

Reader, try the experiment; retire now into thy 



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110 A TREATISE ON 

self, and tee if thou canst not strike out some light 
within, by closely urging such questions as these. 
' What am I? for what was I made? and to what 
ends have I been preserved so long by the favour 
of my Maker T do I remember, or forget those ends T 
have I answered, or perverted them ? What have 
I been doing since I came into the world ? what is 
the world or myself the better for my living so 
many years in it? what is my allowed course of ac- 
tions? am J sure it will bear the future test? am 
I now in that state I shall wish to die in? and, O 
my soul, think, and think again, what it is to die ! 
Do not put that most awfuf event far from thee; 
nor pass it by with a superficial thought. Canst 
thou be too well fortified against the terrors of that 
day? and art thou sure that the props which sup- 
port thee now will not fail thee then? What hopes 
hast thou for eternity ? hast thou, indeed, that holy, 
godlike temper, which alone can fit thee for the 
enjoyment of God? Which world art thou most 
concerned for? what things do most deeply affect 
thee? O my soul, remember thy dignity; think 
how soon the scene will shift. Why shonldst thou 
forget thou art immortal?* 

2. This seli^scitation and scrutiny must be very 
frequently made. They who have a gretX deal of 
importantbusiness on their hands, should be often 
looking over their accounts, and frequently adjust 
them, lest they should be going backwards, and 
not know it; and custom will soon take off the dif- 
ficulty of this duty, and turn it into delight 

In our morning retreat, it will be proper to re« 
member that we cannot preserve thron^iout the 
day that calm and even temper we may then be in ; 
that we shall very probably m^t with some things 
to mflle us, some attack on our weak side. PIsm 



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Self-knowledge. m 

A goftfd there now. Or, however, if no incidents 
happen to discompose ns, our tempers will vary; 
our thoughts will flow pretty mach with our blood ; 
and the dispositions of the mind be a good deal go- 
verned by the motions of the animal spirits; onr 
soids will be serene or cloady, oar tempers volatile 
or phlegmatic, and onr inclinations sober or ine* 
golar, aocordix^ to the briskness or sluggishness of 
the circulation of the animal fluids, whatever may 
be the cause or immediate occasion of that; and 
therefore, we must resolve to avoid all occasioiw 
that may raise any dangerous ferments there, which, 
when once raised, will excite in us very diflPerent 
thoughts and dispositions from those we now have; 
which, together with the force of a fair opportunity 
and urgent temptation, may overset our reason and 
resolution, and betray us into those sinful indul- 
gences which will wound the conscience, stain the 
soul, and create bitter remorse in our cooler nfleo- 
tions. Pious thoughts and purposes, in the morn- 
ing, will set a guard upon the soul, and fortify it 
under all the tempations of the day. 

But such self-inspe^on, however, should never 
fail to make part of our evening devotions, when 
we should review and examine the several actions 
of the day, the various tempers and dispositions we 
have been in, and the occasions that excited them. 
It is an advice worthy of a Christian, though it first 
dropped from a heathen pen, that, before we biw 
take ourselves to rest, we review and examine all 
the passages of the day, that we may have the com- 
fort of what we have done aright, and may redress 
what we find to have been amiss; and make the 
shipwrecks of one day be as marks to direct our 
course on another; a practice that hath been re- 
commended by many of the heathen moralists of 



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112 A TREATISE OK 

the greatest narne^ as Plutaxch^ Epictetas^ Marcus 
Antoninus, and particularly Pythagoras in the 
verses that go under his name> and are called his 
golden verses ; wherein he advises his scholarsevety 
night to recollect the passages of the day, and ask 
themselvea these questions : * Wherein have I tnaa* 
grossed this day? what have I done? what duty 
have I omitted?' &c. Seneca recommends the 
same practice. * Sedius (saith he) did this: At 
the dose of the day, before he betook himself to 
rest, he addressed his soul in the following manner. 
What evil of thine hast thou cured thia day? 
what vice withstood? in what respect art thou bet- 
ter ? Passion will cease, or become more cool, wheil 
it knows it is every day to be thus called to ac- 
count* What can be more advantageous than tha« 
constant custom of searching through the day? — I 
And the same course (saith Seneca) I take myself; '^ 
and every day sit in judgment on myself. And, at ' 
even, when all is hush and still, I make a scrutiny 
into the day; look over my words and actions, and 
hide nothing from myself; conceal none of my 
mistakes through fear. For why should I, when I 
have it in my power to say thus? This once I for- 
give thee, but see thou do so no more. In such a 
dispute I was too keen : do not, for the fatore, con- 
tend with ignorant men; they will not be convicted, 
because they are unwilling to shew their ignorance. 
Such a one I reproved with top much freedom, 
whereby I have not reformed, but exasperated him : 
remember hereafter to be more mild in your een- 
sues ; and consider not only whedker what you 
say be true, but whether the person you say it w 
can bear4o hear ^e truth.'-— SbiMC. de Irm, lib. iii. 
cap. 96. Thus far that excellent moralist. 
Let OS take a few other specimens of a'moie 



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self-knowledge. 113 

p&mB.mnd Chriitian tiim> from a jadicioos aad de- 
wttt writer. 

' This moming when I arose, instead of applying 
myself to God in prayer (which I generaUyfind it 
best to do immediately after a few serious reflec- 
tions)> I gave way to idle musing; to the great ^n- 
oider of my heart and frame. How often have I 
svflbred for want of more watchfnlness on this oc- 
casion ! When shall I be wise? I have this day 
shamefolly trifled almost through the whole of it ; 
was in my bed when I shonld have been upon my 
knees; prayed but coolly in the moming; was 
strangely off my goaid in the business and con- 
versation I was^roncemedwith in the day, particu- 

Iflurly at ; Findulged to very foolish, sinful, vile 

thoughts, &c. I fell in with a strain of conversfr- 
tion too common among all sorts, vis. speaking evil 
of others ; taking up a reproach against my neigh^ 
bonr. I have often resolved against this sin, and 
yet run into it again. How treacherous this wicked 
heart of mine! I have lost several hours this day in 
mere sauntering and idleness. This day I had an 
instance of mine own infirmity, that I was a little 
awprised at, and I am sure I ought to be humbled 
for. The behaviour of , £rom whom I can ex- 
pect nothing but humour, indiscretion, and folly, 
strangely mi&ed me ; and that after I have had 
warning over and over again* What a poor, impo- 
tent, eontemptiUe creature am I ! This day I have 
been kept, in agrtat measure, from my too frequent ' 
failings* I had this day very comfortable assist- 
ances from God, upon [an occasion not a little try- 
ing—what shall I teniierV^Benm^g Chritt. Orai* 
3* See that the mind be in the most composed 
and disengaged frame . it can, when you enter upon 
this bviiaeMof felf-judgneat. Choose a time when 



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114 A TREATISE OIX 

his BMSt hee from paMicm, and moat nk leamue 
from the cares and affairs of life. A judge is iKit 
like to bring a cause to a good issue, that is either 
intosicated with liquor on the bench^ or haa his 
mind distracted with other cares, when he should 
be intent on the trial. Remember you sit in judg- 
ment upon yourself, and have nothing to do at pre- 
sent but to sift the evidence which conscience may 
bring in either for or against you, in order to pro- 
nounce a just sentence, which is of much greater 
oonoemment to you at present than any thing else 
can be; and therefore it should be transacted with 
the utmost care, composure, and attention. 

4. Beware of partiality, and the influence of self- ' 
Kwe, in this weighty business ; which, if you do not \ 
guard against it, will soon lead you into s^f-delu- 
sion, the consequences of which may be fatal to ' 
you. Labour to see yourself as you are; and view < 
things in the light in which they are, and net in that . 
in which you would have them be. Remember, 
that the mind is always apt to believe those things 
true, which it would have be so; and backward to 
believe those things true, which it wishes were not 
so; and this is an influence you will certainly lie 
under in this affidr of self-judgment. 

You need not be much afraid of being too se- 
vere upon yourself: your great danger will gene- 
rally be passing a too favourable judgment. A 
judge ought not, indeed, to be a party concerned, 
and should hftve no interest in the person he sits in 
judgment upoa» But this cannot be the case here, 
a«-3rou yourself are both judge and.crimiaal, which 
die^ the danger of pronouncing a too fiavourable 
sentence. But remember your business is onl^ 
Willi tiM evidence and the rule of judgment; and 
that, however yon come off now, there will be a rc^ 



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Self-knowledge. iti 

liearing in another eourt, where judgment will be 
according to truth. 

« However, look not unequally either at the good 
or evil that is in you» but view them as they are. 
If you obsetTe only the good that is in you, and 
orerloek the bad, or search* only after your faults, 
and overlook your graces, neither of these will 
bring you to a. true acquaintance with yourself/— 
Baxter^t Director. 

And to induce you to this impartiality, remem^ ] 
her that this business (though it may be hid from 
the world) is not done in secret. God sees how 
you manage it, before whose tribunal you must ex- 
pect a righteous judgment. ' We should order our 
thoughts so,' saith Seneca, ' as if we had a- window 
in our brea8ts> through which any one might see 
what pasaes there. And, indeed, there is one that 
does; for what does it signify that our thoughts are 
hid from men? From God nothing is hid/-^iSen. 

&• Beware of falae roles of judgment. This is 
» sore and common way to self-deception. S, O. 
Some judge thenuelves by what they have been. 
But it does not follow, if men are not so bad as they 
have been, tiiat therefore they are as good as they 
should be. It is wrong to make our past conduct 
Implicitly the measure of our present, or the pre- 
•ent the role of our future ; when our pest, present, 
a&d future conduct must all be brought to another 
role. And they, who thtis ' measure themselves 
by themielves, and compare* themselves with them- 
aelves are not wise;' 3 Ow, x. 12. Again, othen »re 
apt to judge of themselvei by the opintons «£ men, 
which is the most uncertain rule that can be; for 
uthat very opinion of theirs you maybe deceived. 
Bow do you know they have really so good an 



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116 A TREATISE ON 

opiAion of yon as they profess? but if they haveV 
have not others as bad? and why should not the 
opinion of these be your rule as well as the opinion 
of those? Appeal to self*flattery for an answer. 
However^ neither one nor the other of them, 
perhaps, appear to know thenueWes; ailfl how 
should they know you? how is it possible they 
should have opportunities of knowing you better 
than you know yourself? A man can never gain a 
right knowledge of himself from the opinion of 
others, which is so various, and generally so ill- 
founded; for men commonly judge by outward ap- 
pearances, or inward prejudice, and therefore, for 
the most part, think and speak of us very much at 
random. Again, others are for judging of them- 
selves by the conduct of their superiors, who have 
opportunities, and advantages of knowing, acting, 
and being better; and yet, without vanity be it 
8poken,'say they, we are not behind-hand with them. 
But what then ? Neither they nor you, perhaps, 
are what the obligations of your character indis- 
pensably require you to be, and what you must be, 
ere you can be happy. But consider how easily this 
ai^ument may be tamed upon you. You are betteir 
than some, you say, who have greater opportuni* 
ties and advantages.of being good than you have# 
and therefore your state is safe ; but you yourself 
have greater opportunities and advantages of being 
good than some others have, who are, nevertheless, 
better than you; and, therefore, by the same mle^ 
your state cannot be safe. Again, others judge of 
themselves by the common maxims of the vulgar 
world concerning honour and honesty, virtue and 
interest; which maxims, though generally very 
corrupt, and very contrary to those of reason, eoa- 
fdeace^ and Scriptoie, men wUl follow as a nXt, 



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SELF.KKOWLSBQB. 117 

for the sake of the latitude it allows them ; and 
fondly think^ that« if they stand right in the opi- 
nion of the lowest kind of men> they have no rea- 
son to be severe upon themselves. Others^ whose 
sentiments are more delicate and refined^ they ima- 
gine may be mistaken^ or may overstrain the matter. 
In which persuasion they are confirmed by observ- 
ing how seldom the consciences of the generality of 
men smite them for those things which these nice 
judges condemn as heinous crimes, I need not say 
how false and pernicious a rule this is. Again, 
others may judge of themselves and their state by 
sudden impressions they have had^ or strong im« 
pnlses upon their spirits^ which they attribute to the 
finger of God, and by which they have been so ox*' 
ceedittgly afiected> as to make no doubt but that 
it was the instant of their conversion ; but whether 
it was, or not, can never be known but by the con- 
duct of their after-lives. In like manner, others judge 
of their good state by their good frames, though very 
rare it may be, and very transient, soon passing off 
* Ii!ke a morning doud, or as the early dew«'— ^ But 
we should not judge of ourselves by that which is 
unusual or extraordinary with us, but by the ordi- 
naxy tenonr and drift of our lives. A bad man may 
seem good in some good mood, and a good man may 
seem bad in some extraordinary falls. To judge of 
a bad man by his best hours, and a good man by 
his wont, is Uie way to be deceived in them both.' 
— Baster^i Direetor. And the same way may yiou 
be deoeived in yourself. Phaxoah, Ahab, Herod, 
and Felix, had all of them their softenings, their 
transitory fits of goodness ; but yet they remain 
upon record under the blackest characters. 
These, then, are aU the wrong rules of judgment; 



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118 A TREATISE ON 

and to trust to them, oi try doneHes by them, leads 
to fatal self-deceptum. Again^ 

6. In the business of self-examination, you mnst 
not only take care you do not judge by wrong rules^ 
but that yon do not judge wrong by right rules. 
You must endeavour, then, to be well acquainted 
with them. The office of a judge is not only to col- 
lect the evidence and the circumstances of facts, 
but to be well skilled in the laws by which those 
facts are to be examined. 

Now the only right rules by which we are to ex«f 
amine, in order to know ourselves, are reason and I 
Scripture. Some are for setting aside these mles,! 
as too severe for them, too stiff to bend to their 
perverseness, too straight to measure their crooked 
ways ; are against reason, when reason is against 
them; decrying it as carnal reason; and, for the 
same cause, are against Scripture too, depreciating 
h as a dead letter. And thus, rather than be con-f 
vinced they are wrong, they despise the only means! 
that can set them right. / 

And as some are for setting aside each part of 
their rules, so others are for setting them one against 
the other; reason against Scripture, and Scripture 
against reason; when they are both given ua by 
the God of our nature, not oflly as perfectly con- 
sistent, but as proper to explain and illustrate each 
other, and prevent our mistaking either ; and to be, 
when taken together (as they always should), the J 
most complete and only rule by which to judge, I 
both of ourselves and every thing belonging to our | 
salvation, as reasonable and fallen creatures. j 

(.1.) Then» one part qf that rule, which God hath 
given us to judge of ourselves by, is right reason; 
by which, I do not mfiaa the reasoning of ftny par- 



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SSLF-KNOWIrEDGE. IW 

ticular maa* which may be very, different from the 
reasonii^ of another particular inan> and both, it 
may be, very different from right reason ; becanae 
both may be influenced, not so much by the reason 
and nature of things, as by partial prepossessiona 
and the power of passions ; but by right reasoii, 1 
mean those common principles which are readily* . 
allowed by all who are capable of understanding 
them, and not notoriously perverted by the power 
of prejadice, and which are confirmed by the com- 
mon consent of all the sober and thinking part o^ 
mankind, and may be easily learned by the light ol 
nature. Therefore, i£ any doctrine or practice, 
though supposed to he founded in, or countenanced 
by, revelation, be nevertheless apparently repug- 
nant to these dictates of right reason, or evidently 
contradict our natural notions of the divine attri- 
butes, or weaken our obligations to universal virtue,, 
that, we may be sure, is no part of revelation, be- 
cause then one part of our role would clash with, 
and be opposite to, the other. And thus reason 
was designed to be our guard against a wild and 
extravagant construction of Scripture. 

(2.) IHie other part of our rule is the sacred: 
Scriptures, which we are to use as our guard agdinst 
the licentious excursions of fancy, which ia often> 
imposing itself upon us for i^ht reason. Let any. 
religious scheme or notion, then, appear ever so , 
pleasing or plausible, if it be not established on the 
plain principles of Scripture, it is forthwith to be 
discarded; and that sense of Scripture, that is 
violently f oreed to bend towards it, is very mnoh to 
be suspected. 

It must' be very surprising to one who reads and 
studies the sacred Scriptures with a free unbiassed 
mind, to see what elaborate, fine-span, and flimsy 



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120 A TREATISE Olf 

gloaset, men will invent and pnt upon tome text* 
as the true and genuine sense of them^ for no other 
reason, but because it is most agreeable to the opi- 
nion of their party^ from which^ as the standard of 
their orthodoxy^ they durst never depart; who, if 
they were to write a critique, in the same manner, 
on any Greek or Latin author, would make them* 
selves extremely ridiculous in the eyes of the 
learned world. But> if we would not pervert our- 
mle^ we must leam to .think as Scripture speaks, 
and not compel that to speak as we think. Would 
we know ourselves^ then^ we must often view our- 
selves in the glass of Gk>d'8 word. And when we 
have taken a full survey of ourselves from thence, 
let us not soon forget * what manner of persons we 
are;' James i. 23, 24. If our own image do noi 
please us, let us not quarrel with our mirror^ but 
set about mending ourselves. 

The eye of the mind^ indeed> is not like that of 
the body, which can see everything else but itself; 
for the eye of the mind can turn itself inward, and 
survey itself. However, it must be owned, it can 
see itself much better when its own image is reflect- 
ed upon it from this mirror: and it is by this only* ■ 
that We can come at the bottom of our hearts, and ! ; 
discover those secret prejudices and carnal prepoe-4: 
sessions which self-love would hide from us. . , 

This, then, is the first thing we must do in order ' : 
to self-knowledge : we must examine, scrutinise, \ 
and judge ourselves, diligently, leisurely, frequent- , ^ 
ly, and impartitdly; and that not by] the false. [ 
maxims of the world, but by the rules which God \ \ 
hath given us, reason and Scripture ; ai^d tal^ cara . | 
to understand those rules, and not set them at va- j 
riance. The next important step to self-knowledga '•{ 
is {he subject of the following chapter. k 



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SBLF-KNOWLEBGE. 121 

CHAP. 11. 

ComtmU Waiohfiilnett neeemury to Self-Knowledge. 

II. ' Would we know ourselves, we must be very 
watcliful over our hearts and lives.' 

1. We must keep a vigilant eye upon our heartsi 
i, e, our tempers, inclinations, and passions. A| 
more necessary piece of advice we cannot practise, 
in order to self-acquaintance, than that which 
Solomon gives us, Prov. iv. 23, ' Keep your heart 
with all diligence,' or, as it is in Uie original, 
' above all keeping.' Q,D. Whatever you neglect or 
overlook, be sure you mind your heart. Narrowly 
observe all its inclinations and aversions, all its 
motions and aflfections, together with the several 
objects and occasions which excite them. And this 
precept is enforced with two very urgent reasons in 
Scripture. The first is, because 'out of it are the 
issues of life :' t. «. as our heart is, so will the tenor 
of our life and conduct be; a» is the fountain, so 
are the streams; as is the root, so is the fruit. 
Matt. vii. 18. And the other is, because ' it is de- 
ceitful above all things,' Jer. xvii. 9. And there- 
fore, without a constant guard upon it, we shall 
insensibly run into many hurtful self-deceptions. 
To which I may add, that, without this careful 
keeping of the hewt, we shall never be able to 
acquire any considerable degree of self-acquaint- 
ance or self-government. 

2. To know ourselves, we must watch our life 
and conduct, as well as our hearts; and, by this, 
the heart will be better known, as the root is best 
Imown by the fruit. We must attend to the nature 
and consequences of everjr action we are disposed i 

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123 A TREATISE ON 

or solicited to before we comply, and consider how 
it will appear in an impartial review. We are apt 
enough to observe and watch the condnct of others; 
a wise man will be as critical and as severe upon 
his own : for indeed we have a great deal more to 
do with our own conduct than other men^s; as we 
are to answer for our own, but not for theirs. By' 
observing the condnct of other men, we know them ; I 
by carefully observing our own, we must imowt 



ourselves. 



CHAP. UI. 



We $hould heme $ome regard to the Opiniont of Other* 
concerning tu, partieularljf of our Snemiet, 

III. 'Would we know ourselves, we should not 
altogether neglect the opinion which others have 
of us, or the things they may say of us/ 

Not that we need be very solicitous about the 
censure or applause of the world, which is gene- 
rally very rash and wrong> according to the par- 
ticular humours and prepossessions of men; and 
a man that knows himself will soon know how to 
despise them both. 'The judgment which the 
world makes of us, is generally of no manner of 
use to us; it adds nothing to our souls or bodies, 
nor lessens any of oar miseries. Let us constantly 
follow reason/ says Montaigne, 'and let the puUic 
approbation follow us the same way if it pleases.' 

But still, I say, a total indi£ference in this mat- 
ter is unwise. We ought not to be entirely insen- 
sible to the reports of others ; no, not to ^e rail- 
ings of an enemy : for an enemy may say some- 
thing out of ill-will to us, which it may concern 
to think of coolly when we are by ourselves 



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rail- 
»me-( 
nus \ 
;t6 j 



\ 



SBLF-KNOWLEDOE. 123 

«xamiM whether the accosation he jost* and what 
thfire is in our conduct and tonper which may 
make it appear so« And by this means oar enemy 
may do ns more good than he intended, and be an 
occasion of discovering something of onr hearts «o 
qa which we did not know before. A man that 
hath no enemies ought to have very faithfolfrieuis ; 
an4 one who hath no snch friends oitght to think it 
no calami^ that he hath enemies to be his effectual 
monitors. ^ Our friends/ says Mr. Addison, ' very 
often flatter as as much as our own hearts. They 
either do not see onr faults, or conceal them £rom 
ua^ or soften them by their representatiom, after 
such a manner, that we think them too trivial to be 
taken notice of. An adversary, on the contrary, 
makes a stricter search into us, discoveis every 
flaw and imperfection in our tempers ; and, though 
his malice may set them in too strong a light, it 
has generally some ground for what it advances. 
A friend ^xi^gerales a man's virtuea; an enemy 
inflames his crimes. A wise man should give a just 
attention to both of them, so far as it may tend to 
the improvement of the one and the diminution of 
the other. Plutarch has written an essay on the 
benefits which a man may receive from his ene- 
mies; and, among the good fruits of emnity, men-/ 
tions this in particular, that, by the reproaches itl 
casts upon us, we see Uie worst side of ourselves,! 
and open our eyes to several blemishes and defects • 
in our lives and conversations, which we should 
not have observe^ without the help of snch ill-' 
natured monitors. 

' In order, likewise, to come at a true knowledge 
of ourselves, we should consider, on the other 
hand, how far we may deserve the pruses and 
approybation which iha world bestow upon usj 



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tW A TREATISE OK 

whether the acdoiu they celehrate proceed froiB 
laudable and worthy motivefl^ and how far we afis 
really possessed of the virtues which gain us ap* 
plause amongst those with whom we converse. 
Such a reflection is absolutely necessary^ if we coa- 
aider how apt we are either to value or condemn 
ourselves by the opinions of others^ and tosacrifiee [ 
the report of our own hearts to the judgment of the •' 
mor\^.*^8pecUxtor, vol. v. No. 399. * 

It is the character of a very dissolute mind, to - 
be entirely insensible to all that the world says of ■ 
us; and shews such a confidence of self-knowledge, i 
as is usually pi sure sign of self-ignorance. The 
most knowing minds are ever least presumptuous. 
And true self-knowledge is a science of so much 
depth and difficulty, that a wise man would not 
choose to be over-confident that all his notions of 
himself are right, in opposition to the judgmentof 
aB mankind; some of whom, perhaps, have better 
opportunities and advantages of knowing him (at 
some seasons especially) than he has of knowing 
himself; because they never look through the same 
false medium of self-flattery. 

CHAP. vr. 

FrequeiUeomerKwUhSuperwn, a hdp to Self- 
Knowledge* 

IV. 'Another proper means of self-knowledge, 
is to converse as much as you can with those who 
are your superiors in real excellence.' 

' He, that walketh with wise men, shall be wise ;' 
Prov. xiiL 20. Their example will not only be your 
motive to laudable pursuits, but a mirror to your 
mind ; by which you may possibly discern some I 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 125 

ftilhig«> or deficiencies^ or neglects^ in yonrselfV 
-whidi before escaped yon. You will see the m^ 
reasonableness and vanity of yoor self-sufficiency, 
when you obsenre how much you are surpassed by 
others in knowledge and goodness. Their pro- 
ficiency will make your defects the more obvious 
to you. And, by the lustre of their virtues, you 
will better see the deformity of your vices; your 
negl^ence, by their diligence; your pride, by Uieir 
humility; -your passion, by Uieir meekness; and 
your folly, by their wisdom. 

Examples not only move, but teach and direct 
much more effisctnally than precepts; and shew us, 
' not only that such virtues may be practised, but 
how; and how lovely they appear when they are. 
And, therefore, if we cannot have them always be- 
fore our eyes, we should endeavour to have them ', 
always in our mind; and especially that of our ' 
great Head and Pattern, who hath set us a lovely ' 
example of the most innocent conduct, under the | 
worst and most disadvantageous circumstances of j 
human life. 

CHAP. V. 

OfcuUivaiing ntch a Temper at witt beihahett 
di$po8Uion to Self-Knowledge. 

v. ' If a man would know himself, he must, with 
great care, cultivate that temper which will best 
dispose him to receive this knowledge.' 

Now, as there are no greater hinderances to 
self-knowledge than pride and obstinacy, so thero 
is nothing more helpfol to it than humility and an 
opeoDMS to conviction. . 

1. One, who is in quest of self-knowledge, mu»t,| 



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126 A TREATISE ON 

abov9 all things^ seek hamilily. And hov near .an { 
affinity there is between these two, appeaTS from { 
hence, that they are both acqiiired the same way. | 
The very means of attaining humility are the pro- j 
perest means for attaining self-knowledge. By 
keeping an eye every day upon our faults and w^nts, 
we become more humble ; and, by the same means, 
we become more self-knowing. By considering 
how far we fall short of our rule and our duty^ and 
how vastly others exceed us, and especially by a 
daily and diligent study of the word of God, we 
come to have meaner thoughts of ourselves; and, 
by the very same means, we come to have a better 
acquaintance with ourselves. 
I A proud man cannot know himself. Pride is 
' that beam in the eye of his mind, which renders 
. him quite blind to any blemishes there. Hence, 
J uothing is a surer sign of self-ignorance than vaxuty 
^and ostentation. 

Indeed, true self-knowledge and humility are so 
necessarily connected, that they depend upon, and ., 
mutually be^et each other. A man that knows ^ 
himself, knows the worst of himself, and therefore j 
cannot but be humble ; and an humble mind is j 
frequently contemplating its own faults «nd weak- j 
nesses, which greatly improves it in self-knpw- i 
ledge. So that self-acquaintance makes a man | 
humble; and humility gives him still a better ac- J 
quatntance with himself. j| 

2. An openness to conviction is no less necessary 
to self-knowledge than humility. 

As nothing is a greater bar to true knowledge 
than an obstinate stiffiiess in opinion, and a fear 
to depart from old notions, which (before we were 
capable of judging perhaps) we had long taken up 
for the truth; so nothing is a greater bar to self- 



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SSLF-KNOWLEBGE. 

knowledge^ thui » strozig ATersion to part wil 
those sentiments of ourselyes which we ha^e 
blindly accustomed to^ and to think worse of our-| 
selves than we are used. 

And such an unwillingness to retract our senti- 
ments> in both cases^ proceeds from the same cause, 
viz. a reluctance to self •condemnation. For he that 
tiskes up a new way of thinking, contrary to that 
which he hath long received, therein condemns 
himself of having lived in an error; and he that 
begins to see faults in himself he never saw before, 
condemns himself of having lived in ignorance and 
sin. Kow this is an ungrateful business, and what 
self-flattezy gives us a strong aversion to. 

But such an in^exibillty of judgment, and hatred 
of conviction, is a very unhappy and hurtful turn 
of mind. And a man, that is resolved never to be 
in the .wrong, is in a fair way never to be in the 
ri&ht. 

As mfallibility is no privilege of the human na- j 
ture, it is no diminution to a man's good sense or 
jndgviQnt to be found in an error, provided he ist 
willing to retract it* He aqts with the same free- 
dom apd liber^ as before : whoever be his moni- 
tor, it is his own good sense and judgment that still 
guides him; which shines to great advantage in 
thus 4irecting him against Hke bias of vanity and 
self-opinion. And in thus changing his sentiments, 
he oiiy acknowledgefi that he is not, what no man 
eye^ was, inpispalale of being mistaken. In short, it 
is more merit, and an argument of a more excellent 
mind, for a man freely to retract when he is in the 
wrongs thaji to be overbearing and positive when 
he is in the right 

A man,. then, mi^t be willing to Imow himself, ] 
tMfore he can know himself. He must open hi«, ; 



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128 ATREAHSBOK 

eyes^ if he deBires to see; yield to eyidenee and 
conviction, though it be at the expense of his judg- 
ment^ and to the mortificatioiL of his vanity. 

CHAP. VI. 

To he tensUfle ofourfdlte Knowledge, agoodttep 
to Seff'KnowJedge. 

VI. 'WotLD you know yourself > take heed and 
guard against false knowledge/ 

See that the 'light that is within you be not 
darkness;' that your favourite and leading prin- 
ciples be right. Search your fumiture, and see 
what you have to unlearn. For oftentimes there I 
is as much wisdom in casting off some knowledge 1 
which we have, as in acquiring that which we have | 
not; which, perhaps, was what made Themistoctea 
reply, when one offered to teach him the art of 
memory, that * he had much rather he would teach 
him the art of foigetfolness/ 

A scholar, that hath been all his life collecting 
of books, will find in his Ubrary, at last, a great 
dealof rubbish ; and, as his taste alters, and his 
judgment improves, he will throw out a great many 
as trash and lumber, which, it may be, he once 
valued and paid dear for, and replace them with 
such as are more solid and useful. Just so should 
we deal with our understandings; look over the 
f omiture of the mind ; separate the chaff firom the 
wheat, which are generally received into it toge- 
ther; and take as much pains to forget what we 
ought not to have learned, as to retain what we 
ought not to forget. To read froth and trifles all 
our life, is the way always to retain a flashy and 
juvenile turn; and only to contemplate our fiist 



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Self-knowledge. \s» 

(wbic& ifl generally our wont) knowledge^ cramps 
the progress of the anderstanding^ and is a great 
hiaderance to a true self-knowledge. In shorty ' 
would we improve the understanding to the valu^ 
able purposes of self-knowledge, we must take ai 
much care what books we read, as what company 
we keep. . 

'The1^ai])s we take in books or arts, which treat 
of. things remote from the use of life, is a buay idle- 
n«M. If I study (says Montaigne), it is for no othei 
science than what treats of the knowledge of my* 
tell, and instructs me how to live and die well/-- 
Ruho/Lifi. 

It is^a. comfortless speculationf and a plai^- proof / 
of the imperfsetion of the-human nndeistanding^ 
that, ttpoa a narrow semluiyiAto our furniture^ we 
observe a great many things which we think we 
know^ but do not; and a great many things which 
we do know, but ought not; that of the knowledge 
which we. have been all ous lives collecting, a good 
deal of it is mere ignorance, and a good deal of it 
worse than ignorance. To be sensible of which is 
a voy necessary step to self-acquaintance*— See 
parti.ch.l3. 

CHAP. vn. 

Sdf-hupectioh peeuUarliy neeetufp vpon $6m» 
p€urtiouktr occariotu, 

YII. ' WoiTLD you know yourself, you must very 
carefully attend to the frame and emotions of your 
mind, under some particular incidents and occap 



Some sudden accidents which befal'you when 
die mtttd it most off its guard, wiU better discover 
G2 



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IdO A TREATISE OK 

its secret ttun and prevailing disposition, tfiaii 
much greater events yon are prepared for. JB, O, 
- 1. Consider how you behave under any snddmi 
affronts or provocations from men. ' A fool's imth 
is presently known ^' Prov. xii. 16. t.«. a fool is 
presently known by his wrath. 

If your anger be soon kindled, it is a sign that 
•ecret pride lies lurking in the heart, which, like 
gunpowder, takes fire at every spark of provocation 
that lights upon it. For whatever may be owing 
to a natural temper, it is certain that pride is the 
chief cau^e of frequent and wrathful resentments-; 
for pride and anger are as nearly allied as humility 
and meekness. 'Only by pride cometh conten* 
tion;' Prov. xiii. 10. And a man would not know 
what mud lay at the bottom of lus heait, if pro- 
vocation did not stir it up. 

Athenodmrus the philosopher, by reason of his 
old age, begged leave to retire from the court of 
Augustus, which the emperoK granted him ; and 
as Athenodorus was taking his leave of him, ' Re- 
member,' said he, ' Caesar, whenever you are angiy, 
you say or do nothing, before you have repeated 
the f our-and-twenly letters of the alphabet to yoof- 
self.' Whereupon CaMar catching him by the 
hand, 'I have need,' says he, 'of your presence 
still;' and kept him a year longer. This is cele- 
brated by the ancients as a rule of excellent wis- I 
dom. But a Christian may prescribe to himself | 
a much wiser, vis. 'When you are angry, answer 
not till you have repeated the fifth x>etition of the 
Lord's prayer, ' Forgive us our trespasses, as we 
forgive them that trespass against us;' «nd our 
Saviour's comment upon it, ' For if ye forgive men 
their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also 
forgive you ; but if ye forgive not men tlieir ties^ 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 131 

passes, neither will your Father forgive yourtres-l 
passes ;' Matt. vi. 14, 15. 

It is a just and seasonable thought that of Mar- 
cus Antoninus; upon such occasions. ■* A man mis- 
behaves himself toirards me — ^what is that to me ? 
Hie action is his j and the will that sets him upon 
it is his; and therefore let him look to it. The 
fanlt and injury is his> not mine. As for me> I am 
ia the condition Providence would have me, and 
aa doing what becomes me.' — MediMtiomi book v. 
$25. 

But still this amounts only to a philosophical 
o4«tempt of injuries, and fedls much beneath a 
Christian forgiveness of them; which, as' Chris- 
tians, we are bound to, and which, if we know our- 
selves, we shall be disposed to. And therefore,'in 
order to a true self-knowledge, we must always 
take care to examine and observe in what n^omer 
we are affected in such circumstances. 

2. How do you behave under a severe and un- 
expected affliction from the hand of Providence? 
which is another circumstance, which, when rightly 
improved, will help us very much to know ourselves. 

If there be any habitual discontent or impatience 
lurking within us, this will draw it forth, especially 
if the affliction be attended with any of those ag- 
gravating circumstances, with which Job's was. 

Afilictions are often sent with this intent, to 
teach us to know ourselves; and, therefore, ought 
to be carefully improved to this purpose. 

And much of the wisdom and goodness of our 
heavenly Father is seen by a serious and attentive 
mind, not only in proportioning t|ie degrees of his 
corrections to his children's strength, but m adapt- 
ing the kinds of them to their tempers; afflicting 
9ne in one wa^, another in another, according as 



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132 A TREATISE ON 

he bows they are most easily wrought upoxi^ «id 
as will be most for their advantage; by whieh 
means a slight affliction of one kind may as deeply 
affect us, and procure as great an advantage to ioB, 
as a much greater of another kind. 

It is a tiite but true observation, that a wisemin 
jeeeives more henefit from his enemies than from 
his friends, from his afflictions than from his met" 
eies ; by which means he makes his enwnies In 
effect his best friends, and his afflictions his great- 
est mercies. Certain it is, that a man never haito 
opportunity of taking a more fair and undisguised 
^©w of himself than in these circumstances r *ad 
therefore, by diligenUy observing in what manner 
he is affect^ »t such tin.ea,^e mayjnake a* im- 
provement in the true knowledge of himself, very 
much to bie futate advantage, though perhapSnot 
a little to bis present mortification; fot a tfuddtin 
provocation fri(>m man, or eevere- affli^etnls "tvom 
€rod, may detect something which lay latent end 
undiscovered so lon^ at Uie bottom ^ of hift httit, 
that lie never once suspected it to have had any 
place thete. Thus the one excited wratlr' in the 
sleekest inan, Psal. cvi. 33, and the other pastion 
in the most patient. Job iii. 3. 

By considering, then, in what manner We' bear 
the particular afflictions God is pleased to hll6t hs, 
and what benefit we receive fifom them, we may 
come to a very considerable acquaintance with oto- 
selves. 

' 3. In a time of peace, prosperity, and plcastoe, 
when the soul is generally most unguarded, what 
is its temper and disposition then? 
* This is the warm season that nourishes and im- 
pregnates the seeds of vanity, self-confidence, and 
a supercilious contempt of others. If there be such 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 133 

a root of bitterness in the hearty it will be veiy apt 
to shoot forth, in the sunshine of unintempted 
pxosperity, even after the frost of »lversity had 
nipped it> and, as we thought, killed it. 

Prosperity is a trial, as well as adversity, and is 
.commonly attended with more dangerous tempta- 
tions. And were the mind but as seriously disposed 
to self-reflection, it would have a greater advantage 
of attaining a true knowledge of itself under the 
former than under the latter. But the unhappmess 
of it is, the mind is seldom rightly turned for such 
an employment under those circumstances. It Has 
aomethmg else to do ; has the concerns of the woKld 
to mind; and is too much engaged'by the things 
without it, to advert to those within it; and is more 
disposed to enjoy than examine itself. However, 
it is a very necessary season for self-ezaminatton^ 
and a very proper time to acquire a good degree of 
self-knowledge, if rightly improved. 

Lastly, How do we behave in bad oompanyt 

And that is to be reckoned bad company, in 
which there is no probability of our doing or get- 
ting any good, but apparent danger of our doing or 
getting much harm ; I mean, our giving ofience to 
others, by an indiscreet seal, or incnrring gnilt to 
ourselves, by a crindnal compliance. 

Are we carried down by liie torrent of vaduty and 
vice ? Will a flash of wit, or a brilliantfaney, make 
us excuse a profane expression? If so, we shall 
soon come to relish it, when thus seasoned, and use 
it ourselves. This is atime when our seal andwis- 
dom, our fortitude and fimmess, are generally put 
to the most delicate proof, and when we may too 
often take notioe of the unsuspected escapes of f oUy, 
fickleness, and indiscretion. 

At such seasons as these. Oxen, vre way often 



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134 A TREATISE OK 

ducem what lies at the bottom of our hearts^ better 
than we can in the more even and customary scenes 
of life, when the passions are all calm and still: 
and therefore, would we know ourselves, we should 
be very attentive to our frame, temper^ disposition, 
and conduct, upon such occasions. 

CHAP. VIII. 

To know Oundvet, we must whoUy ahiiractfrom 
external Appearances. 
YIII. * Would you know yourself, you must, as I 
far as possible, get above the influence of external I 
« appearances and circumstances.' ' 

I A man is what his heart is. The knowledge ot 
Ihimself is the knowledge of his heart, which is en- 
ftirely an inward thing; to the knowledge of which^ 
then, outward things (such as a man's condition 
and circumstances in the world) can contribute no- 
thing ; but, on the other hand, if taken into any 
consideration, will be a great bar and hii^derance 
to him in his pursuit of self-knowledge. 

1. Are your circumstances in the world easy and 
prosperous, take care you do not judge of yourself 
too favourably on that account. 

These things are without you, and therefore can I 
never be the measure of what is within yon ; and J 
however the world may respect you for them, theylf 
do not in the least make you either a wiser or more! j 
valuable man. ** 

. I|L fonning a true judgment of yourself, then, you 
mast entirely set aside the comsideration of your 
estate and family, your wit, beauty, genius, health, 
&c which are all but the appendages or trappingsj 
of a man, or a smooth and ffbining vanusb, which I 
may.lacquer over the biuie^t metal. I 



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SILF-CNOWLEDGE. 18& 

A man may be a good and happy man withontT 
theie things^ and a bad and wretched one -withl 
them. Nay^ be may have all these, and be the I 
worte for them. They are so far from being good ! 
and excellent in themselves, that we often see Pro-|l 
vidence bestows them upon the vilest of men, andJi 
in kindness, denies them to some of the best. They j I 
ctften are the greatest temptations that can put all 
man's faith and firmness to the proof. Or, \ 

2. Is your condition in life mean and afflicted? 
Do not judge the worse of yourself for not having 
those external advantages which others have. 

None will think the worse of you for not having 
them, but those who think the better of themselveB 
If or having them : in both which they shew a very] 
depiavM and perverted judgment These are (rdl 
o«f( 1^' riftXp^ things entirely without us, and out of 
our power; for which a man is neither the betterl 
nor the worse, but according as he uses them : and| 
therefore you ought to be as indifferent to them as 
they are to you. A good man shines amiably) 
through all the obscurity of his low fortone, and a I 
wicked man is a poor little wretch in the midst of I 
all his grandeur. 

Were we to follow the judgment of th6 world, 
we should think otherwise of these things^ and by 
that mistake be led into a mistaken notion of ouiw 
selves. But we have a better rule to follow, to | 
which if we adhere, the consideration of our ex* j 
temal condition in Ufe, be it what it will, will have j' 
no undue influence on the mind in its search afteyll 
aelfo knowledge. 



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136 A TREATISE ON 



CHAP. IX. 



ThepracHce of Self-Knowledge, a great § 
to proriMte it, 

IX. * Let all your self-kiiowledge be reduced into 
practice/ 

The right improvement of that Imowledge wet 
have, is tba beH way to attun more. 

The great end of self-knowledge is self-govern- { 
ment> without which it is but a useless speculatioo. 
And, 8» all knowledge is valuable in proportion to { 
its end, so. this is the BM»st excellent kind of know- 
ledge, only because the practice of it is of such ex- 
tensive use, as hath been already shewn. 

' Above all other subjects,' says an andetit pious ' 
writer, 'study thine own self. For no kxiowledge, 
thi^t t^exminates in curiosity or speculation, is com- 
parabU to that which is of use; and of all useful 
knowledge, that is most so, ^hich consists in the 
due care and. just notions of ourselves. This study j 
is a debt which every one owes himself. Let us j 
not, then« be so lavish, so unjust, as not to pay this 
debt, by spending some part, at least, if we cannot 
allj, ojs most, of our time and care upon that which 
has the pxost indefeasible claim to it. Govern your i 
passions ; manage your actions with pirudenoe ; and, •J 
where^^false steps have been made, correct them | 
for the future. Let nothing be allowed to grow ^ 
hea48<9n>ng and disorderly j but bring all under dis- jj 
cip]Une> . Set all your faults before your eyes; and ^ 
pass sentence upon yourself with the same severity I 
as you wotUd do upon another, for whom no par- ; 
tiality hath biassed your judgment.^— S^. Bernard** 
Meditatiofu, chap. v. 

What will our most exact and diligent self-re- 1\ 



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S&IiF-KNOWUBDe^E. W 

naitlies avail na, i£, after all« we sink into indo- ! 
lence and sloth ? Or what will it signify to be con- \ ' 
vxnced that there is a great deal amiss in our de- 1 
portment and dispositions, if we sit still contentedly 
under that conviction^ without taking one stop to- 
wards a refonnation? It will^ indeed, render us 
bat the more guilty in the sight of God. And how 
sad a thing will it be to have oar self-knowledge 
hereafter rise up in judgment against us I 

* Examination is in order to correction and 
amendment. We abuse it and ourselves, if we rest 
in the duty without looking farther. We are to re- 
view our daily walk, that we may reform it; and, 
consequently, a daily review will point out to us 
the subject and matter of our future daily care. 
This day (saith the Chiistian, upon his review of 
things at night) I lost so much time, particularly 
at — — . I took too great a liberty, particularly in 
— — . I omitted such an opportunity that might 
have been improved to bfitter purpose. I misma- 
naged such a duty — ^I find such a corruption often 
working; my old infirmity still cleaves to me ; how 
easily doth this sin beset me ! Oh ! may I be more 
attentive for the time to come ; more watchful over 
my heart; take more heed to my ways! May I 
do so the next day!'— 'The knowledge of adittom-| 
per is a good step to a cure; at least, it directs toj 
proper methods and applications in order to it.) 
Self-acquaintance leads to self-refonnation. He' 
that, at the dose of each day, calls over what is ' 
past, inspecto himself, his behaviour and manners, . 
will not fall into that security, and those uncen- ' 
sured follies, that are so common and so danger- ] 
oos/— BawM^'c Chriit, Ora*, 

And it may not be improper, in order to make us 
seBsible of^ and attontive to, some of the mora se- 



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jt TREATISE ON 
jjrf/oibies of our tempers, to penllunpi 
*^^bt, according as they appeared dunag 

^ ^as of the day; hy which means^ "we 
*^^y have a more distinct view of that 
rov^ character to which we are generally 
fia4f b"^ ^^^ ^ able to discover some, 4®- 
A blemishes in it, which^ perhaps, we i^eyer 
»fided before. For the wiles and doublings 
^^^rtare sonietimes so hidden andintricate> 
^^iiires the nicest care and most steady at- 
^ detect and unfold them. 
Q^tance ; ' This day I read an author whose 
^ts were very different firom mine, and who 
ed himself with much warmth and confi- 

It excited my spleen, I own> and I imme- 
passed a severe censure uponliim ; so that, 
been present, and talked in the sam^ strain, 
led temper would have pvompted ma to us^ 
nd ungrateful Ungaage, which might have 
[Xed.avery unchristian contention. But I 
x>l]ect, that, though the author might be 
m in those sentiments (as I still believe he 
ret, by hi& particular circumstances in life, 
B method of his education, he hath b^en 
f led into that way of thinlung; so that his 
ce is pardonable; but my uncharitablenefp 
especially considering, that, in maiQr xq- 
he has the ascendant of me. This proceed- 
[i,.£rom uncharitableness, which isonelnult 
emp^r I have, to watch against ^ imd whi/ch 
was before so sensible of asl am now, upon 
collection. Learn more moderation, and 
Lore allowances for the mistaken opinions of 
for the future. Be as charitable to others, 
ffer from you, as you desire they should be 
who differ as much from them ; for it may 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 139 

be»yoii ean&ot be more assved of being in the? 
right than they are. • | 

- ' Again : this day I have found myself strongly 
inclined to put in something by way of abatement 
to an excellent character given of an absent per- 
son by one of his great admirers. It is tmei I had 
the copuuand of myself to hold my tongne, and it 
is well I had : for the ardour of his zeal would not 
have admitted the exception (though I still think 
that, in some degree, it was just), which might 
have raised a wrangling debate about hia charac* 
ter, perhaps at the expense of my own; or, how 
ever, occasioned much animosity and contention. 
But I have since examined the secret spring of that 
impulse, and find it to be envy, which I was not 
then sensible of; but my antagonist had certainly 
imputed it to this ; and had he taken the liberty to 
have told me so, I much question whether I should 
have bad the temper of the philosopher, who, when 
he was really injured, being asked whether he was 
angry or no, replied, * No ; but I am considering 
with myself whether I ought not to be so.' I doubt 
I should not have had so much composure, but 
should have immediately resented it as a false and 
malicious aspersion. But it was ceitainly envy 
and nothing else ; for the.person, who was the o^ 
ject of the encomium, was much my superiot in 
many respects. And the exception that arose to 
jny mind w|m the only flaw hi his character, which 
nothing but a quick-sighted envy could desciy. 
Take heed, then, of that vice for the future. 

'Again: this day I was much surprised to ob- 
serve in myself the symptoms of a vice, which, of 
all others, I ever thought myself most clear of, and 
have always expressed the greatest detestation of 



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140 A mSATISE ON 

in others; and that is covetousness. For yfhat' 
else could it be that prompted me to withhold my. 
Parity from my fellow-creature in distress^ on pre- 
tence that he was not, in every respect^ a proper 
object; or to dispense it so sparingly to another, 
who t knew was so, on pretence of having lately 
been at a considerable expense upon another occa- 
sion? This could proceed from nothing else but a 
latent principle of covetousness ; which, though I 
never before observed in myself, yet it is likely 
others have. O how inscrutable are the depths 
and deceits of the human heart! — Had my enemy 
brought against me a charge of indolence, self-in- 
dulgence, or pride, and impatience, or a too quick 
resentment of affronts and injuries, my own heart 
must have confirmed the accusation, and forced 
me to plead guilty. Had he charged me with bi- 
gotry, self-opinion, and censoriousness, I should 
have thought it proceeded from the same temper 
in himself, having rarely observed any thing like 
it in my own. . But had he charged me with covet- 
ousness, I should have taken it for downright ca- 
Ixunny, and despised the censure with indignation 
and triumph. And yet, after all, I find it had 
been but too true a charge. O ! how hard a thing 
is it to know myself ! This, like all other know- 
ledge, the more I have of it, the more sensible I 
am of my want of it/ 

The difficulty of self-government and self-posses* 
sion arises from the difficulty of a thorough self- 
acquaintance, which is necessary to it; I say, a 
thorough self -acquaintance, such as has been al- 
ready set forth in its several branches. (Part I.) 
For, as self-government is simply impossible (I 
mean considered as a virtue), where self-ignorance 



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SBLF^KNOWLSBGE. Ul 

fffevaiU, bo the difficulty of it will decreaM in pio- 
portion to the degree in which telf-aoquaintante 
increases. 

Many, perhaps, may he ready to think this is a 
paradox, and imagine that they know their predo- 
minant passions and foibles very wall,bnt still find 
it extremely difficult to correct them. Bntlet themi 
examine this point again, and perhaps they may' 
find, that tbat difficulty arises, either from their 
defect of self-knowledge (for it is in this, as in other 
kinds of knowledge, wherein some are very ready 
to think themselves mach greater proficients than 
they are), or else from their neglect to put in prac- 
tice thatdegree of self-knowledge they have. They 
know their particular failings, yet will not guard 
against the immediate temptations to them. And 
they are often betrayed into the immediate temp- 
tations which overcome them, because they are ig-j 
norant of, or do not guard -gainst, the more remote 
temptations, which lead them into those which are 
more immediate and dangerous, which may not 
improperly be called the temptations to tempta- 
tions; in observing and guarding against which 
consists a vexy necessary part of self-knowledge, ,' 
and the great art of keeping clear of danger, which, \ 
in onr present state of frailty, is the best means of 1 
keeping'dearof sin. * 

To correct what is amiss, and to improve what is 
good in us, is supposed to be our hearty desire, and 
the great end of our self-research. But if we do 
not endeavour after this, all our labour after self- 
knowledge will be in vain ; nay, if we do not en- 
deavour it, we camkot be said heartily to desire it : 
' For there is most of the heart, where there is most 
4of the will; and there is most of the will, where 
there is most endeavour; and where there is moat 



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l42 A TREATISE OS 

endeavtrar^ there is generally most saccess. So] 
that endeavour must prove the truth of our deaixey 
uhd desire will generally prove the sincerity of our 
endeavour/— Border. This, Ithink, ire may safely 
say> without attributing toonnnch to the power t»f 
the human will, considering that we are rational 
and £ree agents, and considering what effeotnal as- 
sistance is offered to them who seek it, to render 
their endeavours successful, if they axe sincere— 
Which- introduces the subject of the following } 
chapter. 

CHAP. X. 

Frequent arid fervent Prayer the most effectual 
meant for attaining true Self-Knowledge. 

LASTLY: 'The last means to self-knowledge 
which I shall mention is, frequent and devout ap- 
plications to the Fountain of light, and the Father 
of our spirits, to assist us in this important study, 
and give us the true knowledge of ourselves.' 

This I mention last, not as the least, but, on the 
contrary, as the greatest and best means of all, to' 
attain a right and thorough knowledge of ourselves, 
and the way to render all the rest effectual. And 
theceforo, though it be the last means mentioned, 
it is the first that should be used. 

Would we know ourselves, we must often con- 
verse* not o«ly with ourselves in meditation, bat 
with God in prayer; in the lowliest prostration of 
soul, beseeching the Father of our spirits to disco- 
ver them to us ;' in whose light we may see light,' 
where, before, there was nothing but darkness, to 
make known to us the depth and devices of our 
heart. For, without the grace and influence of his 
difine illuminations and inatmctions^ oar hearts 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 143 

will| after all our care and pains to know them^ I 
most certainly deceive as. And self-love will so | 
pr^indice'tlie understandings as to keep us still in / 
self-ignorance. ^ 

Tlie first thing we lore to -do, in order to self* I 
knowledge, is to assure ourselves, that our hearts ) 
* are deceitful above all things/ And the next is, 
to remember, that ' the Lord searcheth the hearts, 
and trieth the reins,' Jer. xvii. 9. t.6. that he, the . 
(KapdcoYwiMrrfw) ' searcher of all hearts,' (1 Chron. 
xxviii. 9.) hath a perfect knowledge of them, de- 
ceitful as they are. Which consideration, as it 
suggesteth to us the strongest motive to induce us 
to labour after a true knowledge of them ourselves, 
so it directs us, at the same time, how we may at- 
tain this knowledge ; viz. by a humble and impor« 
tunate application to him, to whom alone they are 
known, to make them known to us. And this, by 
the free and near access which his holy Spirit hath 
to our spirito, he can effectually do various w4.y8, 
viz. by fixing our attentions; by quickening our ap- 
prehensions ; removing our prejudices (which, like 
a false medium before the eye of the mind, pre- 
vent its seeing things in a just and proper light); 
by mortifying our pride; strengdiening the intel- 
lective and refiecting facultitt ; and enforcing upon • 
the mind a lively sense and knowledge of its great- 
est happiness and duty ; and so awakening the soul 
from that carnal security and indifference about itt . 
best mterests, which a too serious attention to the , 
world is apt to betray it into. 

Besides, prayer is a very proper expedient for " 
attaimng self-knowledge, as the actual engagement 
of the mind in this devotional exercise is, in itself, 
a gieai help to it : for the mind is never in a bet- 
ter frame, than when it is intently and devoutly 



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■^^ 



*** A TREATISE ON 

engaged in tbu duty. It hu thea the beet «««*_ i 
heuBionB of God, the toiest notionT^^ifP^ ; 
ihej^t^entu^nts of earthly ^gf. 7,^^;^* 
ett conceptions of its own «.^.i. """o*» tiie dear- 

^»<l» oh / conid we hnf .1 

•kMeTOrthTc^^" <!ond.t.on in the world, 
^r <-»l»/o.^^e;:^t^»f'-J«ever' 
""oorite »entimeiu« l»TT^^*f' *'»«teve» th, 
«Iigio».,ectZ^r„t!™"='P'-' «' »h«e^ 
««. th« thou hS^'SJ^S'Tr'' ^' '<» M^ 
aou hMtbeen rei^nT^hfS&A"^'"*' « wSt 

tk« Mcurity of thy m^ „r^. •" *^«« *"»» 
*orid,«,d U.ylZ,?^.*"*' ""filliiew in thi. 
^ •" thy inte W^K ""'*"' •»<' ~>«*» 
f -l^p. thou W' ^ :1:T •»«» • Chrit^ 
T^ »the gUw Z^Cf'^ <* tW"- own 

*l»tiaMii« of nZr.fc '• "l"^ ««»> 'fomt 



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SELF-KNOWLEDGB* 146 

ha4t a&et irith some things thoa dost not well on- 
der«taad or approve; but shall that tale off thine 
attetktieB f rom those things thou dost understand 
and approre, and art convinced of the necessity of? 
I£ thoa hast received* no improvement^ no benefit 
from what thoa hast been reading, read it oyer 
again. The same thought^ you luxow^ often im- 
presses one more at one. time than another; and 
.we sametimes reeeive move knowledge and profit 
hy the second perusal of a book than by the first. 
Am6:1 would fain hopoy that thoa wilt find some- 
tiling in this that may set thy thoughts on work, 
anA which, by the blessing of Ood, may make thee 
mora observant of thy heart and conduct; and, in 
consequence of that, a taore solid^ serious, wisCj 
established Christian. 

But will you, after all, de^l by this book you 
have now read, as you have dea^t by many ser- 
mons you have heard? pass your judgment upon it 
according to your received and established set of 
notions; and condemn or applaud it only as at is 
agreeable or disagreeable to them ; and commend 
or censure it only as it suits or does not suit your 
particular taste; without attending to the real 
weight, importance, and necessity of the subject, 
abstracted from those views? Or will yon be barely 
content with the entertainment and satisfaction 
which some parts of it may possibly have given 
you ; to assent to the importance of the subject, 
and justness of the sentiment, or the.propijetjof 
some of the observations you have been reading, 
and so dismiss all without any farther concern 
about the matter ? Believe it, O Christian reader, I 
if this be all the advantage you gain by it, it were I 
scarce worth while to have confined yourself bo \ 
long to the perusal of it. It has aimed, it has sin- j 



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146 ON SELF-KNOWLEDGE, 

cerely aimed, to do you a much greater benefit; to 
bring you to a better acquaintance with one you 'ex^- 
press a particular regard for, and who is capable of 
being the best friend, or the worst ^nemy, you have 
in the world; and that is yourself. It was designed 
to convince you; that, would you live and act con- 
sistently, either as a man or a Chrisiian, you must 
know yourself; and to persuade you, under the 
influence of the foregoing motives, and by the help 
of theforementioned directions, to make self-know- 
ledge the great study, and self-government the 
grdat business, of your life^ In which 'resolution 
may Almighty God confirm yon; and in which 
great business may his grace assist you, against all 
future discouragements and distractions! With 
him I leave the success of the whole ; to whom bej 
glory and praise for ever ! 



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I 



THE 
GRBAT IMPORTANCE 

OP 

A RELIGIOUS LIFE 

CONSIDERED. 

TO WHICH ARK ADdIbD, SOME 

MORNING AND EVENING PRAYERS. 



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TBK 
GREAT IMPORTANCE 

OF 

A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



CHAP I. 



' What shall I do to be saved?' was a qaestion 
which the trembling and astonished jailer put to 
Paul and Silas, when he saw the prison-doois open- 
ed in a miracolons manner; a question of the ut- 
most moment and importance, zAd which it nearly 
concerns us all to be well resolved in. For, if there 
be a life after this, and we do not die like ih e ' beasts 
that perish;' if death does not put a final period to 
our beings, but when this short life is ended, we 
enter Upon the regions of eternity, and shall be for 
ever happy or miserable, according as we demean 
ourselves in this short time of trial and probation ; 
if this be the state and condition of mankind (as 
the voice of reason^ the dictates of conscience, and 
the Holy Scriptures, do loudly proclaim it is), how 
does it behove every one of us to inquire what we 
must do to attain everlasting life ; and to consider 
whether we are m the way that leads to heaven and 
immortality; or, if we nave been so unhappy to 
wander out of it, how we may recover and return to 
it again! 

This is an inquiry that deserves our utmost dili- 
gence and attention. For if we are ignorant of the 
will of God, dr, knowmg it, will not follow or be 



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150 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

led by that unerring light, but suffer oorselves to 
be hurried away by our unruly passions in the pur- 
suit of the things of this life, we are wretched and 
miserable, blind and naked, notwithstanding all 
our attainments: and we shall one day be con- 
vinced, to our sorrow, that there is no folly like 
that of preferring things teitaporal to things eter- 
nal. Whatever * the children of this world' may 
think, and how much soever they may i^plaud 
their own wisdom in contriving schemes to be rich 
abd great, yet, if their chi^f care and concern is 
taken up about these things, it is certain they will 
be found * fools ' when weighed in the balance of 
true wisdom. 

He that is truly wise will consider that he has a 
soul as well as a body to take care of; a spiritual 
and immortal substance, which can never die; but 
when enlarged from that prison in which it is now 
confined, must live for ever, either in happiness or 
misery. Shall we then be so foolish as to confine 
our ambitious pursuits within the narrow limits of 
this world without considering what will be the 
condition of our souls hereafter ? Shall we labour . 
and toil for ' the meat that perisheth,' and be cold 
about the momentous concerns of eternity ? Shall > 
we spare no pains in order to increase our tempo- 
ral estates, and to lay up * goods for. many years,' 
when we know not but ' this night our souls may 
be required of us?' And if we have made no pro- 
vision for their everlasting welfare, what will it 
avail us that we have been rich and great in this 
.world ? i 

* The fashion of this world passeth away,' and 
all the glory and splendour of it will in a little ' 
time have an end. How great then is the folly of ' 
that man, and how deplorable will his condition 



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■ OF A AEWGIOtS LIFE. 161 

be,, whot instead .of seeking the kingdom of God 
and his righteousness, in the first place,' has con.- 
sumed his days in seeking after the honours and 
riches of this world, and has worn himself out in 
the pursuit of those things which are of no value 
in.the sight of God? Wretched stupidity! 'What 
shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world i | 
and lose his own soul?' Matt. xvi. 26. Time bears i | 
no proportion to eternity. The most exquisite.* j 
pleasures of this life, which at best are of a short! 
continuance, . can never compensate for the loiss of! 
that happiness which ' God has prepared for them j 
that love him/ How miserably then will that man ! 
be deceived, who places all his hopes and happi«{ 
^ess in the poor and empty satisfactions of a sen-] 
sual life; who looks no farther than the present] 
time ; and lives as if he cared not what became of | 
him hereafter, provided he may but enjoy ' the . 
pleasures of sin for a season 1' I 

■ But some, perhaps, may. ask. Where is the man 
so ajaandoned to folly and madness, as to be con- 
tent, for the sake of a present short-lived happi- 
ness, to be miserable for ever hereafter? I wish, 
indeed, there were none auch : but, alas ! there are 
too many that make this, sad choice. Not that any 
one chooses evil for the sake of evil, or prefers 
misery before happiness (for a desire of happiness 
is inseparable from our nature) ; but in the Scrip- 
ture account of things, he is said to ' choose ' de- 
struction who walks in the broad way that leads to 
it. For God has been pleased to ' set before us 
life and death, blessing and cursing;' Deut. xxx. 
19. — Rewards on the one hand, to encourage our 
obedience *, and punishments on the other, to deter 
us from sin. As the man, therefore, who obeys the 
commandments of God chooses ' life,' so he that^ 



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IS2 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

deliberately trangreuetf &em chooses ^ deatb ;' \ 
that death which Go4. has threatened to the sinner, l 
even ' death eternal/ For the * wages of sin b i 
death;' and he that chooses the one (let his pre- i 
tences be wh^t they may), must be said to choose \ 
the other; because he knows (at least it is his own ] 
^ult if he does not know) that * God will render ' 
to every man according to his deeds: to them, who, 
by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory 
ftnd honour and immortality, eternal life : but unto .' 
them that are contentious, and do not obey the '; 
truth, but obey unrighteousness; indignation and •; 
wrath, tribulation and anguish, upon eyery soul of '. 
man that doth evil ;' Rom. ii. 6—9. * 

See, then, what a wretched piece of folly i&e 
sinner is guilty of (how wise soever he n;iay think 
himself, and how much soever he may despise the 
sober part o! mankind), when he first enters upon a 
life of wickedness. For he is then evidencing to 
all the world, that life and death being set before 
him, he has determined his choice to the latter; a 
choice so absurd and unaccountable, that, did not 
experience convince us it is often made, we could 
hardly think it possible for a rational creature to 
be so blind. O blessed God ! hast thou set before 
us happiness and misery, 'joys unspeakable, and 
full of glory,' on the one hand, and torments end- 
less and intolerable on the other; hast thou given 
us the light of reason to gu|de us, and superadded 
that of thy Holy Spirit to illuminate and instruct 
us ; hast thoii implanted in our natures a dread of, ' 
and aversion firom, pain and misery, and an in- I 
satiable and never-ceasing thirst after happiness ; ! 
and it is possible for us, after all this, to be so 
blind and senseless, such enemies to our own souls, ' 
and so regardless of their eternal welfare, as to pre- \ 



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OF. A RELIGIOUS. LIFE. 153 

|er ti^e dark ways of , sin and. misery before those *. 
blessed paths that lead to the bright regions of hliss i 
and^glory ! . Alas ! such wretched fools are too ^ 
many among us, who, notwithstanding all that thou 
hast done for us, will not^iearken,. nor be advised, . 
biit run headlong into the ways of sin anddestruc- '^ 
tion! 

This, indeed, is a melancholy consideration : and I 
what shall we say to awakenmen'out of this fatal | 
lethargy, and to inspire them with a just sense of^ 
their danger? what, but entreat them to consider, \ 
that, 'unless they. repent, they will certainly pe- r 
lish V For the wrath of God is revealed against j 
all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men : and, i 
though God 'winked at ^e times of ignorance,'^ 
yet 'now he commandeth all men every where to 
repent ; because he hath appointed a day in which ] 
he will judge the world in righteousness, by that i 
man whom he. hath ordained *, whereof he hath , 
given assurance unto all men, in that he hath rais<' i 
ed him from the dead \* Acts xvii. 30, Sl^-T-In.that ' 
awful day, sinners ' will in vain call to the moon- ' 
tainJB and rocks to fall on them, and to hide them ; 
from^the face of him that siUeth. qn the throne, ] 
and from the wrath of the Lamb.^ For, when-, 
'.the great day of his wrath is come, who shall then 
be able to stand?' Rev. vi. 16, 17.— Who, indeed, 
shall b^ able to stand before the face of afi in- 
censed GK>d, and hear him pronounce that dread.- 
ful sentence, 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his an- 
gels? Ah ! who can bear an eternity of horror and 
despair?" who can dweU' with implacable fiends 
' in everlasting burmngiB?' Isa. xxxiii. 14. 

Thene ixe considerations of infinite moment and 

concern, and sufiiciently shew us theneceisity.of 

H2 



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td4 THE GBMAT. IHPORTAITGE 

' denying imgodHneM and Worldly luiU^ and livmg 
rigliteoi]Bly> aobeAy, and godlily^ in diia present 
world/ Bnt> because the weightiest truths^ when 
their consequences are not immediately f elt^ are 
too apt to be disregtorded ; I shall enlarge a little 
upon the great importance of a religious life^ by 
endeavouring to prove these three things : 

I. Tfaait there is no solid Happiness to be attained 
in this life, but in the practice of religion. 
* II. That as religion is the oidy thing that can 
make us happy while we live, so there is nodung 
but a good life can "give us any comfortable prospect 
when we come to die. 

. III. That a conscientious dbservanee of the du- 
ties of religion will not only miike us live happily 
and die comfoitably^ but, what is infinitely beyond 
ail this> will most certainly be rewarded with eter- 
nal happiness in the life to come. 
■ First, then, I shall endeat'our io prove, 'that 
there Is no soUd happiness to be attained in this 
life but in the practice of religion.' 

It has ever been the great artifice of the devil, 
to possess the minds of unthinking men with an 
opinion that rdigion is a sour, morose, ill-natured 
♦Ki ng • an enemy to whatever is pleasant and cheer- 
ful; and thst whoever engages in the practice of 
it, must firom that instant renounce all the pleasures 
and enjoyments of this life. But, as the devil is 
'the father of lies,' it is no wonder that he sets 
every thing before us in a false and deceitful li£(ht. 
It was by these meanshe deceived our first unhappy 
parents, and it is by the same methods he endea- 
vours to betray their too credulous posterity. He 
is continually representing ' evil as good, and good 
for evil; putting darkness for light, and light for 
darkness;' He knows that there is such a beauty 



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OF A RELIGiaUS LIFE. W 

and cotAelinets in reUgi<m, mm no one can behold 
it but with love and admJT^tion; and therefore he 
«ndeavoun to.diaw a veil over its lustre^ and to 
raise in our minds frightful ideas concenixng* it» 
And tod loany, alas ! are misled by such false and 
qnjust representations. 

But would men be persuaded once to make the t 
experiment ; would they foisake the dangerous r 
paths of sin, and walk in the way that leads to ever- 
lasting happiness; would they retire from the noise > 
and tumult of a loose and disordered life, andlisten I 
to the stiU voice of reason and reli^n ; they would 
qukkly find how grossly they have been dieated, 
nod Vender how it was possiUe they should so long 
hftvd been deceived; They would soon discover, 
and then admire, * the beau^ of holiness/ and be 
thoroughly convinced thht there is no pleasure like 
that of a good conscience; no real and jK)lid bappi- 
-nessbut what results from a life of virtue and holi- f 
ness. They would thenbless the happy d^ange they 
had made, and would not part with their interest in { 
heaven for the greatest enjoyments this woild could 
give them. All those empty pleasures which once 
.captivated and ensnared them, would then appear 
fnean and contemptible; and nothing would be 
thought of any real value, but what sets them for^ 
ward in the way of salvation. 

O, happy mani (whosoever thou be) that haat}^- 
made this noble trial, and, by a true and sincere i 
lepentance, art restored to the flavour and love of ; 
God ! Thou hast * turned away thine eyes from / 
beholding vanity,^ and canst now look up with con-; 
iidence to God, and leliab the pleasuns of « virtu-, 
auslife. How is thymindfiUed with love and joy 
and admiration, whan thou oonsidetest, that, by 
the grace and goodness el God, then art rescued^ 



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156 THE GREAT IMPORTAKCE 
out of the jaws of the deyouring lion, and art de*] 
livered from fear and shame^ and self-condemna- 
tion-; the sure and miserable attendents of a guilty, 
conscience ! 

We may hav^ some idea of the happiness of 
such a man, by consideriii^ what is the pleasure <^ 
a redieemed captive when restored to his country, 
his liberty, and his friends ; or, of a mariner .got 
safe to shore after a storm, wherein he was every 
moment in expectation of being swalli^wed up by 
the deep. And yet it must be owned, the com- 
pitfison falls infinitely short : for what slavery is so 
great as a soul under the bondage and dominion of 
sin? or; what are the most terrible dangers of the 
sea, when compared with those to which the sinner 
Is continually exposed ? 

But have not some, it may be asked, made trial 
of religion, and yet have found no satisfaction 
therein ; as may be concluded from their returning 
again to their former course of life ? It is true, 
there are some instances (and sad ones they are, 
G6d knows) of some, who, ' after they have been 
once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly 
gift, and been made partakers of the Holy Ghost, 
have yet fallen away,' and entered again into a life 
of sin and debauchery. But has this been owing 
to a dislike of religion 7 By no means ; but rather 
to a want of care in not avoiding the company 
whjch has formerly seduced them ; or to a forget- 
falness, or at least to a neglect, of the vows and 
resolutions they have made: or, it may i>e, they 
have fallen under some -violent temptation, which 
Ihey have not so vigorously resisted as they might 
and ought to have done. Instances, however, of 
this kind, I trust, are but rare. Whereas, on the 
other handy how mai^ ise there, who^ havinf foc^ 



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' OP A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 167 

Bakenthe company and conversation of the wicked, 
.and having lamented the folly and madness of 
their past lives, have, from being the slaves of sin 
and Satan, become the servants of God? These r 
will tell you, from their own experience, that they i 
have found more true peace aqd^ satjafactjgjg^jyj^ 



co|Mngp|ig- pnp^ipmifl T iabit, than they ever met 
with in the most sensual enjoyment; that all their 
past sinful pleasures yield them now no other fruits 
than those bitter ones of shame and remorse ; and 
that in religion, on the contrary, they find such a 
spring of comfort continually refreshing their souls, 
as they would not part with it for all this world can 
possibly give them ; that they taste such a pleasure 
in the service of God, as makes them, with holy 
David, desire ' to dwell in the house of the Lord I 
all the days of their lives, to behold the fair beauly \ 
of the Lord, and to visit his temple ;' (Psalm xxvix. ■ 
4.) and, like him, esteem it better to ' be a dour- , 
keeper in the house of the Lord (one of the meaaest j 
of God's servants), than to dwell in the tents of! 
ungodliness,' amid the delights and pleasures of a I 
wicked and deluded world. * 

In fact, nothing can give a man so exqusite a 
satisfaction, as to reflect upon the actions of a well- 
spent life ; to consider that he has made God his * 
fHend, and secured an interest in the favour of 
Him, who is the eternal source and fountain of all 
good ; infinite in mercy and loving^kindness, as well 
as in power : not only able> but willing and ready, 
to help and afeiat him in all difficulties : a Being 
to whom he may have recourse under every trial | 
and temptation, under the greatest calamities and \ 
troubles of life ; to whom he may lay open all his 
wants and infirmities, pour forth all his sorrows , 
and afflictions, and may at all times with coafidenee j 



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168 THS GREAT IMPORTANCE 

look up, as being assnxed that he has apioweifri) 
inteiceAor in heaven, Jetus Christ the righteoos^t 
' in whom we have redemption through hia blood, ' 
even the forgiveness of sins ;' Col. i. 14 ; ' and who I 
is able to save thoaa to the uttermost that cotne tcato '• 
God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make inteieea- ^ 
sion for them;' Heb. vii. 25. — I say, for a man to 
eonsider these important truths ; to tlunk that he is 
answering the end of his creatloii ; that he is doing 
the work for which he was sent into the world; 
that he is become a ' member of Christ, a child of 
God, and -an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven :'i 

Ihow muM such thou^ts cheer and refresh hia soul^ 
with a solid, substantial, and lasting pleasure! inH 
comparison whereof, all ^e vain and empty enjoy-' j 
koients of dus world are as nothing. '' 

But then, on the contrary, for a wicked man to 
reflect, that ' the face of the Lord is against them 
that do evil,' Psalm xxziv. 16, and consequently 
that he is in the number of those against whom God 
has declared his displeasure ; that, instead of * work- 
ing out his salvation with fear and trembling/ he ,' 
is daily * heaping up to himself wrath against the • 
day of wrath ;' and though (it 'may be) he is now ; 
' clothed with purple and fine linen, and fares 
sumptuously every day;' though he may at present 
live in all the gaiety and splendour, the pomp and > 
luxury of a great fortune ; yet there will come a < 
time (and, for aught he knowji, it may not be many ' 
moments off) when he shall be stripped of all his 
pleasures and eigoyments, and wai^ even * a drop > ' 
of water to cool his tongue :' surely, such consider- ' 
ations as these must strike the sinner with horror ' 
and amazement, and, lil^ Belshazztur, when he saw 
the hand-writing upon the wall, make }fxm tremble 
eyen in the midst of his greatest mirth and jollity. , 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 1S0 

And^ can a man with gadi impressions on his ' 
mind (and these, or something like these, will be 
sue to haont the sinner) be said to be happy ? Are <, 
the stings of conscience, the terrors of an Almighty 
Judge, and the dreadful expectations of God's ven- * 
geance, consistent with a state of satisfaetionf 
Alas t the libertine.may flatter himself as he pleases, 
and^ think to deceive others, by patting on an air of.. 
gaiety and pleasantness; but it is certain, his mind 
can never be long at rest, while he carries about; 
him a faithful monitor, that will be continnally np-^ 
braiding Hiim for his folly and madness; represent-; 
tng to him the dangers to which he is exposed, and: 
crossing him, as it were, in his way, while he is in'i 
full pnrsait of his nnlawfol pleasures. And though 
he may, perhaps, be able sometimes to silence the 
voice (xf this troublesome companion, by mere dint 
of noise and extravagance ; yet, when his passions 
abate (ae they will not always bear to be upon the ' 
stretch), and the man grows cool, he will find the 
upbraidings of his conscience return upon him with 
the greater violence. The shame and anguish, the 
horror and confusion^ that he will then feel, will 
infinitely overbalance all the satisfactions he can 
meet with in the enjoyments of his sinful plea-', 
flures. 

I own, indeed^ this is not th« case ofevery sinner. 
A man, by along oourse of wickedness, may arrive 
at such a hardened state, as to be incapable of any 
virtuous impressions; his soul may be seared, as it 
were, with a hotiron, and be fallen into such adeep 
and fatal lethargy, as nothing, perhaps^ shall be 
able to awaken it, till it comes to feel the very tor- 
ments of the damned. But no one, I believe, will 
think this to be a state of happiness. 

The truth is, if we consider a. wicked man, with 
respect to this world only, abstractedly from * " 

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ISO THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

"vdll be his portion hereafter, we shall find, tliat 
there are many and great evils to which he is ex- 
posed, besides tl^e torments of a guilty conscience.* 
Are not pauns and aches, rottenness and diseases, 
the. natural e£fects of lost and intemperance; 'po- 
verty and broken fortunes, the certain conse- 
qneaces of pride and prodigidity ? Does not pa«- 
8ion> and anger, and revenge, frequently expose 
men to mischievous, and many times fatal quarrels 
and contentions? Does not robbery, theft, and 
murder, bring upon others a shameful and un* 
timely end?. How many evils are there in the 
world, that, are the immediate effects of men's 
vices? ' 'From whence come wars and figluings 
among you? (says St. .James:) come they not 
hence, even of your lusts that war in your mem- 
bers?' James iv. 1. — And from the same fatal 
source are derived many of those other evils and 
calamities which some men labour under. If we 
trace them to their original, we shall &id. them to 
be the natural fruits of men's lusts and passions.; 
to have proceeded from their covetous and. ambi- 
tious desires, and the gratification of their unruly 
lusts and appetites. . Indeed, how can it be other- 
wise, if we consider, ' That the curse of the Lord 
is in the house of the wicked;' Prov. iii. 33; and 
that ' evil purjiueth ainners?' Prov. xiii. 21. — How 
can any thing but misery attend him who has pro* 
voked the wrath of an Almighty God? 

Let us now consider what is the lot and portion 
of good men in this worTd; and whether the prac- 
tice of virtue and, righteousness is not the most 
likely way to promote present as well as fatoie 
happiness, and to make our pilgrimage here on 
earth a state of tolerable ease and comfort. | 

Solomon had as much experience of the plea- I 
suiet of the world as ever man had^ An<^ ^^^ <^ 



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OF A KELIGIOtJS LIFE. 161 

many ways to make himself happy as his heart ' 
could devise ; having ' kept nothing from his ^es 
that they desiied,nor withheld his hMortfrom any 
joy •/ Eecles. ii. 10 ; and yet, when he came to cast 
up the account^ he f otmd this to be the sum ei it> l 
* that all was vanity and vexation of spkit/ Ac- 
cordmgly, when he is instructing his son in the 
ways of true happiness, he advises* him to ' get 
wisdom and understanding.' For ' wisdom/ says 
he, * is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom ; 
and with all thy getting, get understanding;' Pr«v. 
iti. I3.r-And, as an encouragement to do so, he 
tells hun,'that * happy is the man that findeth wis- \ 
dom, and the man that getteth miderstanding : for '< 
the merchandise of it is better than the meichan- I 
dise of stiver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. | 
She is moxjB precious than rubies ; and all the things | 
thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. 
Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left ,, 
hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of ^ 
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace;' Prov. , 
iii. 13, ftc—Thi&wisdom and understanding, which 
he recommends as a treasure of so great value, 
is not ' the wisdom of this world,' (for that is 
* foolishness with God,' 1 Cor. iii. 19.) but it is 
' the wisdom that cometh from above,' which will 
maike us wise unto salvation : the wisdom of living 
in the fear and love of God, and in a strict obe- 
dience to his commandments. * The fear of the 
Lord,' says he, ' is the beginning t>f wisdom, and\ 
the knowledge of the Holy is understanding;'' 
Prov. ix. 10. Or, as it is in Job, * Behold the fear 
of die Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from 
evil is understanding.' 

Behold, then, the excellence of religion ! it not 
only secures to us a reversion of endless happiness. 



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162 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

but xtdkes our lives at pnsent easy and delightful. 
The vefy paths of religion are pleasant, as well as 
the end to which they lead. It is true, vice has it» 
present pleasures .as w^U as virtue: fajut then there 
is. this difference between them; the pleasures of 
sin are weak, short-lived, and only varnished over,; 
Jthey begin aAd end alnpiost in the same moment^ 
and can never be purchased but at the expense of 
much succeeding trouble, shame, and self-condem«- 
nation. Whereas, those which result from a holy < 
and religious life are substantial, sincere, steady,' 
and secure : they leave no disgust upon the mind,; 
no loathings and dislike; are neither accompai)ied 
with shame, nor followed with remorse or sadness 
— ^those bitter allays to all sinful gratifications, 
'We may talk of pleasures and enjoyments,' sayt 
a great prelate of our church ; ' but no man ever ^ 
truly found them till he became acquainted, with [ 
God, and was made sensible of his love, and par- 
taker of his heavenly favours, and lived in an en-; 
tire friendship and coipmunion with him.' No, 
certainly ; religion is the only happiness of a ra- 
tional creature, the only thing that can give us any 
true and real satisfaction. All other pleasures are^ 
at best, but short and transitory.; but in, religion we 
find a delight and satisfaction which is solid, su^ 
stantial, and lasting ; a delight that grows and im- 
proves under thought and reflection. 
. ' Whenever,' to use the words of anolher^xoeJ- 
lent person, * an action is gQod and virions, it is 
not only natural, but it carries with it a felicity 
flowing from, and essential to, the very .nature of 
it. Paternal, conjugal, filial affection; ^re they 
not full of delight? Justice, friendship, b^nefi- 
cence> all the offices of humanity, and the whole 
train of virtues; does not the exercise of them ad- 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 163 

minister the most sincere and lasting joy? The 
propensity there is in as toward them, and the . sa- 
tisfaction there is in the doing of them, does, in 
dispositions not debauched, lead, most irresistibly, 
to the practice of them. We have, when we are 
about them:» no boding, misgiving thoughts, no for: 
bidding whispers, no secret reluctancy: comfort, 
complacency of mind, and agratulatingcooscience^ 
always accompany such actions/ 

What a perpetual source of joy and comfort is aT 
good conscience! It gladdens the heart, cheeks* 
and refreshes the soul, and fills the mind with a 
constant serenity and cheerfulness, which is in- 
finitely to be preferred before the noisy mirth of 
|fools and madmen. He that is possessed of this 
tmestimable jewel, has a treasure greater than all ; 
she riches of the Indies : a treasure which he al- 
ways carries about with him, and which neither the 
midice of the devil, nor the wickedness of men, can 
rob him of; and so long as he retains this fun^ , 
of joy and comfort (as he may always do, unless 
he is wretchedly wanting to himself), he can never 
be truly miserable. For a good conscience, as it 
gives a relish to all our outward enjoyments, so it 
abates and takes off the edge of the sharpest afflic- . 
tion; and not only enables a man to bear up under ■■ 
present evils, but fortifies him against the dread 
and apprehension of future ones. It arms him 
with courage and resolution, and gives him such 
a firmness and presence of mind, as makes him, 
able to endure the greatest shock. Solomon ob- 
serves, that ' the wicked flee when no man pur- 
sueth; but the righteous are bold as a lion;' Pro v. 
xxviii. 1. — And the holy Psalmist tells us, that a 
good man ' shall not be afraid of any evil tidings ; 
for his heart standeth fast, and believeth in the . 



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164 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 
Lord;' Psalm cni. 7-—' The Lofid/ says he,'is . 
my light and my aalvwdon ; ivhom then shall Tf eaif 
The hord is the strengih of my life ; ef whom ahall 
I be afnudr Psalm xxvil. 1. ' Yea, though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I 
will fen no evil ; for thou art with me; thy rod 
and thy staff comfort me •/ Psalm xxiii. 4.— What, 
indeed^ should he fear whose soul is anchored onthe 
rock of ages; ' who- has the God of Jacob for his 
help; whose hope is in the Lord hisGodr Psalm 
cxlvi. ftiT^He knows that he is in the hands of a 
Most gracious and merciful Father, and is folly jler- 
suaded that ' all things shall woik together for good . 
to them that love him.* He is assured, that ' the \ 
eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him ; upon 
them that hope in his mercy to deliver their sonl 
from death, and to keep them alive in famme;' 
Psalm xxxiii. 18, 19.— Jind therefore he tan rejoice 
in God, even in the midst of trouble and affliction, 
when he considers, that as his afflii^ons come from 
the hands of a good and gracious Being, who ' does 
not willingly afflict the children of men'/ so he 
knows, that * asthe tfanc is short,' they can be of 
no long continuance, and that, if he makes a right 
use of them> ' they will work for him a far more ex. • 
ceeding and eternal wcightof glory ; 2Cor. iv. 17. 
' See then th6 folly and madness of those ' that 
take not God for their strength, but trust to the 
itMhitnde of their ridies, and strengthen them- 
selves in- their wickedness,' Psalm lii. 7, and think 
by these means to be fortified against the evils of 
this life! Alas! there are numberless calamities,' 
from which wealth and power can never shelter us :| 
and therefore if a man withdraws his trust in>God, 
and takes sanctuary in ^e strength of his wicked- 
ness, he will find himself miserably mistaken when 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 165 

the day of advenity comes upon him. The iRreight '- 
of tin tnpentdded to that of tempwal evils, is a ■ 
hurden greater than any person is able to bear. .' 
It is certain^ whatever the great ones of this world ; 
may thinks nothing can alleviate the force of * 
worldly troubles but a good life. It is that, and | 
that only, which is asi&cient counterpoise to ba- | 
lance the weight of any great affliction. Nothing " 
else is sufficient to support a man in * the evil days 
of his pilgrimage,' and to sustain his spirit- under 
Q/^ the aeyeser calamities of this life. All other expe- 
riments, how promising soever, will be found vain 






-^ , , and ineffectual. The consciousness of having, vT 

" '^''/iy some measure, lived holily an d unblameablyonll 

^ V make him look up with a dieeriul assuiance to the 

/^^-^>. great Supporter of his being, enable him to see 

^ ^ through the darkest clouds of sorrow and affliction, 

and behold with an eye of faith th«t heavdhly 

country to which he is travelling, and where hej 

hopes shortly to arrive. And this, though it Will ^.• 

not wholly remove the afflietions whid^ Qod ia ^ f ' 

sometimes pleased, for wise and good ends, lo send 

upon some men in this life* nor make us insensible 

of the pangs that attend them ; yet it will mightily 

lessen and enervate their force, and enable ns to 

bear up undev them with courage and evenchMr- 

fulness. For, how strong a consolation must it be 

for a good man, under bodily pains, or g^ef of 

mind, to contemplate a state where there shall :he 

* no more sorrow, no more pain, and wbeve aUteais 
shall be wiped' for ever ' from hia«yes?'^ Or; if he 
is under the pressure of want and extreme neces- 
sity, how must it support and relieve his sinking 
spirits to consider, that he has« Father in fleavM^ 

* who will never leave him, nor forsake him,' Heb. 
xiii. -5, how much soever he may atpresent think 



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166 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

fit to deprive him of outwatd comforts ! and that 
there is no person in the world so'gresat, so pros- 
ijerons, or so happy, but that (having a little pa- 
tience) he himself shall be more so. 

The sum of what I have said upon this head is 
so elegantly expressed by the aiiUior of an essay 
'on the Omnipresence of God,' that I believe I 
rfiall leave this reflection more strongly upon my 
fader's mind, if I give him the words of an' un- 
known, but excellent person. 

' How happy,' says he, speaking of the inter- ' 
bourse there is between God and the souls of good ' 
men, 'how happy is an intellectual being, who, by 
prayer and meditation, by virtue and good works. 
opens this communication between God aiicl liis** 
own soul ! Though the whole creation firowns upon . 
him, and all nature looks black about hiita, he has 
his light and support within him, that are able to \ 
cheer his mitid, and bear him up in the midst of ' 
all those horrors which encompass him. He knows 1 
tJhat his Heljter is at hand, and is always nearer ! 
to him than any thing else can be which is capable \ 
of annoying or terrifying him. In the midst of ( 
calumny or cohtenipt, he attends to that Being, | 
who whispers better things within his soul, and .' 
whom he looks upon as his defender, his glory, and 
" the liftcr-up of his head." In his deepest solitude 
and retirement, he knows that he is in company 
^th the greatest of Beings; and perceives, within 
himself, such real sensation.^ nf l|isi jgesence, as 
are more dehghtfuTthan any thing that ciKle met 
with in the conversation of his creatures. Even in i 
^e horn- of death he considers the pains of his ^ 
dissolufaon to be notHing else but the breaking \ 
down of that partition wHich stands between hb . 
soul and ^ sight of that Beiig, who is always j 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. - ^ 167 

present with him, and is about to manifest itself to *> 
him in fulness of joy. • ^ 

. ' If we would be thus happy,' to go on with the 
words of this pious author, ' and thus sensible of ' 
oar Maker's presence from the secret effects of 
his mercy and goodness, we must keep such a 
watch over all our thoughts, that, in the language 
of the Scripture, " bis soul may have pleasure in 
us :*' we must take care not to grieve his Holy Spirit, 
but endeavour to make the meditations of our 
hearts always acceptable in his sight, that he may 
delight thus to retside and dwell in us. The light • 
of nature could direct Seneca to ibis doctrine, in a 
very remarkable passage among his epistles: 
*' Sacer inest in nobis spiritus, bonorom malorum- 
que cnstos et observator; et qnemadmodom no« 
ilium tractamus, ita et file nos. There is a Holy > 
Spirit residing in us, who watches and observes . 
both good and evil men, and will treat us after the 
same manner that we treat him." Bilt ' X shall 
conclude,' says the same author, 'this discooxse 
with those more emphatical words in divine reve- - 
lation: "If any man love me, he will keep my 
word, and my Fiither will love him, and we will 
cdme unto him', and make our abode with hhn.*" ■ 

I have thus far considered the effects of a good 
lifel First, as it fills Our ininds with joy, and peace, 
and comfort, and delivers us from Uiose uneasy 
reflections which haunt and torment the sinner; 
and, secondly, as it is a means to secure us' from 
those e^ls which are the immediate consequences 
of sin; and supports' us under such afflictions as it 
pleases God, many times, to «end upon good men 
in this world. I shall now consider it with respect 
to'soide other advaatages it hath above that of a 
wicked oouiie of actioni: and I trust it will fully 



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168 ^ THE GREAT UIPORTAKCE 

appear^ that there U nothing »o likely to eecive a 
man's happiness in this world, as a strict observ- 
ance of the precepts and duties of religion. 

St. Peter lays it down as an undoubted trath,* 
that whosoever desires to live happily, must live 
holily. * He that wOl love life/ says he, * and see 
good days, let him re£rain his tongue from evil, 
and his. lips that, they speak no guile : let him 
eschew evil and do good ;' 1 Pet. iii. 10, 11.— And 
the reason that temporal prosperity is so likely to 
be the lot and portion of the religious man^ is, be- 
caue f the eyes of the Lord ar^ over the righteotu, 
and hii ears are open unto their prayers ; but the 
face of the Lord is against them that do evil/ 
1 Pet« iU. 12, and Psalm zxxiv. 15, 16.~-It is very 
evident, from the whole tenor of Scripture, that 
th« providence of God' does very much interest 
itself in the care and siqiport of good men in this . 
woiU« * Qp taste and «ee/ says the holy Pajtdmist, 
* how gracious the Lord is I Blessed is the man 
thai trogtet^". in him. O fear ye the Lord, ye that. 
«re his sainWi for t^y that fear him lack nothing. 
The lions do Uck, and suffer hunger ; but 'they 
who seek the Lord shall want no manner of thing 
that is good / Psalm xxuv. 8 — 10. — ^How remaik- 
aUe are the words of the wise son of Sirach. to the 
saoRoiAirposo ! ^Look at the generations of oM,' 
saysrhe; 'did ever any trust in the Lord, and m9s . 
confounded ? or did any abide in his fear, and was 
foisakenl or whom did he ever despise that caUcd 
iqpQnhunl' Ecdioiastictas ii. 10<— Add to this that 
.observation of hxAy Davids * I have boon young, 
and now am old ; yet saw I never the fighteous 
forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread / Psalm 
uzvii. 25.— Ob «1io oonftrary, ' I have seen/ safs 
he, ' the ungodly in great power, and flounihing 



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09 A RBLIOIOU8 LIFE. !» 

Kke a green bay^ttee: I west' by, audio! he was ) 
gone : I eooght him^ bat hia place could nowhere | 
be found;' Pialm xxxvii. 35, 36. Tlie contem- i 
idatkm of this wstdtfol providence of God over * 
good men made the devout Psslmist lesolve and , 
say, 'I will always give thanks onto the Lord ; hia } 
praise shall ever be in my mouth;' Psalm xxziv. I. ? 

It is certain ^at God is a being of infinite purity 
and holiness : and as he must therefore hate iniquity 
with die utmost- abhonrencey so there is no doidit 
but a serious and conscientious observance oi the 
duties of reli^on will Mcommend a man to his 
favour and protection, -fie that 'feeds the lowb of 
the air, clothes the grass of the field/ and is of a 
nature so diAisirely bountifdl, ' as to make hissun 
to rise on die evil itM well as on the good, and senda 
his rain both on the just and on the unjust/ will, 
nndoubtedly, in a more peculiar manner, bless the 
labows of an honest and industrious anan, and pro- 
vide for those that fear him and keep his eomaand- 
nents. I would not be understood to say, that 
aevier any widud man hath prospered, nor any 
good man been unsnceessfal in this world: it 
pleasea God, many timei^ for wise and good ends, 
to saffer the righteous to fall into great perplexities 
and distresses. However, since the fiferiptares 
aanxe us, ihat 'the Lord will bless the riglrteous, 
and compass him with favoar as with a shield / 
Psalm ▼. 124— ^ that wealth and riches shall be in 
the house of him that feaveth the Lord, and de- 
Vgfateth in hiacommaadmwita/ Psalm cidi. 1, 3.— 
<that blessings shall be npon his head; that the 
bouse of the righteeua shall stand, and the taber- 
nacle of the uptight shall floofish ;' Prov. x. 6 ; 
xii. 7; ziv. 11^-^that it shall be well with them, 
duit fear God;' Bedes. vUt. 12.— and in short,] 
I 



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170 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

that 'godliness hath the promise of the life th«t 
now is,' as well as 'of that which is to come/ 
1 Tim. iv. 8. — we may certainly conclude, that a 
strict observance of the duties of the Christian re- 
ligion is the most likely way a man can take tO; 
thrive and prosper in the world, and to make his. 
life comfortable and happy. 

And of this truth we.may be convinced, not only 
from the testimony of Scriptine, but from the rea- 
son and nature of things. For, let any one consider, 
and tell me, whether he, who i» just and true in all 
his dealings, honest and sincere in all his profes- 
sions, and faithful to his word and promises; who 
is diligent and industrious in his caUing; who 
makes it his constant rule to do to all men as he 
would they should do to him ; and is soiar from ' 
endeavouring to overreach and defraud his neigh- , 
hour, that he chooses rather to forego the greatest- 
gain, than purchase it at the expense of the least 
injustice : I say, let any one tell me, whether it is. 
not much more probable that such a man should 
enlarge l^s fortune in the world, than he that acts 
t)ie very reverse of all this; that practises all the 
art of cheating and lying, of overreaching and cir> 
cumvention, and stoops to every thing, how base 
and dishonest soever, which he thinks will tun to 
his present profit; that considers not so much how 
honest and upright his actions are, as how profit- 
able ; and cares not what his neighbour suffers by 
his >aju8tice, if he himself does hut get by itt 
Such a man, when he comes to be known (as he 
will not be able long to conceal himself), will oer-> 
tainly lose his credit and reputation; he will be- 
come hated and despised, and every person will be 
afraid to have any dealings with him. On the ether t 
hand, the honest and upright man (beside ^e blea»^ ! 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 171 

iHg of God, which he caimot fail of) will be sure to I 
meet with all the lOve and esteem of all that know i 
him : he will have few^ if any, enemies; but will 
have many friends, and those some of the wisest 
and best of men, who will be always ready to assist 
him, and glad of every opportunity of promoting 
his interest and happiness. 

2. Another great blessing of life, and which gives 
a relish to all other enjoyments, ishealth: and who 
is more likely to obtain this blessing than the re- 
ligions man? For^ will not temperance, sobriety^ 
and virtue (duties which he practises), conduce 
more to a sound and vigorous constitution of body, 
than surfeiting and drunkenness, lust Itnd intem- 
perance ; the mischievous effects of which are* too 
visible to be denied? 'Who hath woe?' said Solo- 
mon, 'who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? 
who hath babbling? who hath wounds without 
cause? who hath redness of eyes ? They that tarry 
long at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed wine ;' 
Prov. xxiii. 29, 30. What pains and diseases have 
some men brought upon themselves, merely by 
their excesses and debaucheries! diseases which* 
have not terminated with their own lives, but have 
been entailed upon their unhappy posterity ! And 
how can it be otherwise, unless it should please 
God to change the nature of things ? For if men 
will run into those excesses which inflame and cor-, 
rapt their blood, it is no wonder that gout or dropsy, 
pr some more immediately fatal distemper, should^ 
proceed from such disorders. And when a vicious 
or debauched parent has brought rottenness into 
Jiis own bones, though the children may be free 
from the vices of the father, yet they frequently 
feel all their lives the mischievous eflEects of his 
tranigKwiov. 



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m TH£ OBEAT IXFORTANCT 

3. Agam> a cheerfol and eontenied ttAoA, ^\ 
another great blessing of life; lor without It^ ao^ 
thi]^ in this world can make ui happy. And hy | 
what means shaU a man obtain this> but by thia^' 
practice of religion T That will teach him to resign j 
his will to Qod, to snbnut to all the dispensatioBs/ 
of his providence, and to be patient and easyjj 
cheerful and Batisfied, imder evety disappointment; 
and trouble he may meet with ; as knowing thiAf 
Gk)d is the sovereign disposer of all things ; a being! 
of infinite goodness, kindness, and love; that ' hftj 
does not willingly afflict the children of men/ biiti 
makes ' every thing work together for good to thMnf 
that love htm/ And how quiet, easy, and conftfeatcd^ 
must such a man be under all events! He has! 
learned, with St. Paul, ' how to abound, and how^ 
to want;' and as he is not puffed up with the one^ 
so neither is he cast down when it pleases God tor 
send the other; but goes through the wodd with » 
calm, even, and contented mind, undisturbed byt 
that inquietude, impatience, and diseontent, inm 
which a proud, envious, and ambitious man ia mI* 
dom, if ever, free. 

4. Peace is another great blessing;, highly voB" 
dudve to the happiness of life; and to this tha ra- 
ligioas man has &e jubtest claim. He couBtdefs, 
that 'if God so loved us, as to send fala Son to be 
the prointiation for our tins, wb ought also to !»«« . 
one another;' 1 Johniv. 10, 11; and tfaerefoKhe is 
an enemy to no man, but kind, and good>Ba«aa0d, 
and obliging to all; and if any penOn is so munm- 
sonable as to toward him evil for good <aa the 
Psalmist complains som6 had done to himaelf), y«C, | 
in imitation of his blesied Saviour, wliofe exarn^ | 
he continually sets befi^e him, he does * good t»i 
them that hate him, and prays for th«B tfait d&.^ 



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OF A RBUaiOUS LIFB. 173 

•pitefoUy tMe him, md penecnte him ;' Matt. v. 44*T 
* When he ia ieinled« he reviles not again; when he '^ 
■fiffex9y he threatens not> but c ommitteth himself to ^ 
him that judgc^h righteonsly;' 1 Pet. ii. 23.~He ; 
feselves, as St. Paul a4vis0s« ' to put away all bit- -, 
temess^ and iRath> and anger> and damour, and 
evil ^waking, with all malied;' Ephes. iVi 31. and i 
aideavDnTB to attain that 'wisdom which is from ' 
above;' whieh is 'first pure^then peaceable^ gen- [ 
tl0> tjxd «asy to be entreated, fall of merey. and | 
geodfirqits;^ James iU. 17.— This principle, o$tove>^' 
9nd<^aiity^ and good-will to mankind, as it rendetsN 
the mind quiet and easy, calm and composed; so it ] 
makes a man not only happy in himself, but a bless- 1 
iagaad comfort to all about him ; and consequently 
attnots the love, esteem, and admiration of all 1 
those that see and feel the l^d and benign in- j 
^.aenee^ of so divine a temper. ^ Great peace,' says l 
the Psilmist, * have they which love thy law, and ' 
nothing shall offend them;' Psalm cxix. 166. And \ 
the prophet assures us, ^that the work of righteous- ! 
ness sludl be peace; and the effects of righteous- \ 
aess, quietness, and assurance for eve?;' Isuah! 
xxxii. 17. I 

Bi^ itpwj on the other hand, the life of an angiy 
^nd fevengeful man is all s^asm and tempest : he 
19 'like a troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose 
wiiteis east up pnire and dirt ;' Isaiah Ivii. 20*^ — He 
is a stranger to peace, and all the blessed finiits 
and ef ects of it ; fpr, where ' envying and strife is, 
then is confusion and every evil work;' James iii. 
16. — ^His mind is- continually restless and uneasy, 
agitated to apd iro with the violent f prce of unruly 
passions^ whi«h lead him on from one evil to ani- 
othtfr, and frequently hurry him into those that are 
of a Taxy misehievoua eenseqnence* What misery 



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m THB GRSAT IBCPOlfeTAKCE 

lUid tortnent must a man feel^ who is powessed 

with a spirit so directly contrary to that of the 

Gospel! How little can he taste of that tme hap« 

piness of life^ whose mind is always discordant and 

oat of tune! He may, perhaps, possess a great 

deal of the good diings of this world, but can have 

very little enjoyment: for, what comfort can he 

find from any thing who has no peace in his own 

mind; who is at enmity with himsdf, and with 

almost every one else ; and is capable of being put 

out^f humour by every trifling, cross accident? 

Is it possible for a man of such a temper to be 

happy, even in the midst of the greatest prosperi^? 

-No, certainly: it is the meek-spirited that our 

Saviour hath pronounced blessed: 'they shall m- 

herit the earth,' Matt. v. 5. and 'be refreshed,' as 

the Psalmist speaks, ' in the multitude of peace,' and 

shall find a real comfort in whatever they possei 

which, though it should happen to be but litde, 

yet, being enjoyed in peace and quiet, and with a 

•contented mind, will undoubtedly yield them a 

much greater and truer satisfaction, than a man of 

a contrary disposition can reap from large posses- 

sions and ample revenues. ^ 

5. I shall mention but one advanti^ more which 

a good man has above a wicked one as to this world; 

and that is, in respect of 'dutiful and obedient chil« 

dren;' which is allowed by all to be a great blessing 

in itself, and is what the former has much more r«a- . 

4on to expect and hope for than the latter. For, if 

it pleases God to bless a good man with children, - 

he begins very early to instil into their tender minds ' 

the principles of virtue and religion : he teaches * 

them to ' remember their Creator in' the days of: 

their youth;' and brings them up in the fear aiid> 

admonition of the Lord. He sets before them, in . 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 175 

his own condmct, the example of a holy and reli- ! 
gious life; and endeavours to wean them from the ' 
pride and vanity of the world, and from those hurt- ' 
fill lusts and passions which tend only to make them 
miserable both here and hereafter. He instructs 
them in that knowledge which is useful and pro- 
fitable, which will give them a right understanding ' 
of themselves and of their duty, and make them 
wise unto salvation : and when the grace of God co- 
operates with these endeavours (as it will not fail ) 
to do), what comfortable hopes may not such a pa- \ 
rent entertain of reaping the happy fruits of all his | 
labours! Instead of looking upon his children with ' 
grief and trouble, and having his gray hairs, by their 
means, brought down with sorrow to the grave; 
bow much rather may he expect to behold them i 
with pleasure and delight, when he sees them as 
so many 'olive-branches roimd about his table,' 
fruitful in everyj;ood work, and increasing in the 
knowledge and love of God ? 

There is no person, I believe, but will allow, that 
diis is the most likely Vay a man can take to be 
ha^y in his children ; and though it should not 
prove effsctual (for success is not in our ' own 
power), yet of dus he may be assured, that his 
pious and sincere endeavours to train up his chil- 
dren in a sober, honest, and religious course of life, 
will certainly recommend him to the favour and 
love of God ; as is manifest from the great regard 
Grod expressed for Abraham on this very account. 
' And the Lord said. Shall I hide from Abraham 
that thing which I do ; seeing that Abraham shall 
surely become a great and mighty nation, and all 
the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? 
For I know him, that he will command his children 
and his household after him, and they shall keep 



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176 THB GREAT IMPORTAKCB 

the wfty of the Iiozd, to do justice and jadgneiit; { 
that the Lord may bring apon Ahraham that which \ 
he hath spoken of him;' Gen. zyiii. 17 — 19^ — Tfua t 
is a great encouragement to parents to be yewy { 
eaiefol in the education of their children : they are « 
making provision for their own happiness at the i 
fymft time that they are endeavouring to seevre ' 
that of their children* Bnt^ should they be disap* 
pointed in these their pious endeavours^ they ar^ 
laying up in store a good foundation of comlbrt to 
themselves at least, against the day of trouble: f 
mean, if it should fdease God that they should live 
to see their children wieked and miserable, not- 
withstanding all the means th^ have used to make 
them otherwise. For they will then have the con- 
solation to reflect that they are clear from the gmh 
of their children's sins ; and will be free from those 
bitter self-reproaches that a wicked manmuu mtke, 
who sees his childzen mined by dLOse vices and 
follies which his example hath taught them, or has 
carelessness and neglect sufiered them to fall into* 
3itter reproaches, I say, those must undoubtedly 
be, which such a parent will make to himself, when 
h»eonsideis that he has his children's sins, as well 
as his own, to account for; and applies to himself 
(as he jusdy may) those dreadful words which God 
tf^ke to tiie prophet Esekiel: 'When I say unto^ 
the wicked, thou shalt surely die, and thou givest 
him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked ' 
from his wicked way, to save his life; the same 
wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood 
will I require at thy hands;' Bsekiel iii. 18.— O 
terrible words of most just judgment ! How dread- * 
ful must they sound in the ears of a wicked parent, ' 
whose children have perished through his fauh 1 
I have now considered some of those duties to 



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OP A RSLIGIOUS LIFE. 177 

whieh nUgion obliget us^antd end^avowed to^hcw 
how conducive they aie to our temponl hoppiiieM; 
by which, I hope, it sofficieiitly «pp€sn» how mqch 
good men have die advantage of the wicked even 
as to this world. And here I cannot but take notice 
i>f the wonderful love of God to mankind, who,'in 
order to encourage our obedience to his lawe, has 
annexed a present, as well as. future, reward to a 
good life; and has so interwoven our daty and 
happiness together, that while we are discharging 
our obligations to the one, we are, at the same time, 
making the best prolrision for the other. 

How much, then, do they derogate from the ho- ; 
nour of Grod, who represent religion as an unpiofit- ^ 
able and unpleasant task! when it is plain to any . 
man, that considers things rightly, and is not under' 
the prejudice of his lusts and passions, that the| 
great design of religion is to make us happy here,( 
as ^ell as hereafter. Accordingly, all its rules and^ 
precepts are so admirably suited to this end, tfaat^ 
would men be persuaded to live in the practioe o| 
them, we should find this world a kind of heaven/ 
upon earth. < 7 

• But, had the practice of our duty been ever so 
irksome and uneasy, and had nothing but trotkble- 
and misery been the lot of good men in this world; 
yet, when we consider that this life will shortly 
have an end, and that there is an ' eternal weight 
of glovy' reserved in heaven for those that truly 
love. and serve God; what wise man would not 
prefer the rugged paths of virtue and religion, 
which he knows will shortly lead him into an 
eternity of bliss and happiness, to the ways of sin 
and wickedness (how pleasant soever he might 
find them), where he is in dangerevery moment of 
foiling into the pit of destruction, and which, he ie 
12 



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178 THB QRSAT IMP0RTA1I€E 

fiife> trilly kr a Htde timt, bring hmi into a ploe^ foi 
endieM nuseffy and tonnentf 

But, since there is notibliig m vetigidii bsl wba^ * 
tBsdi to make our limes easy, djeeiial, and cob« 
tented; nothing bat what is suitable to tmt nm* . 
tores, and agreeable to the dictates of riglit reaAon) j 
nodiing bat what will esnoble oar minds^ eida^ge ' 
oar onderstandings, and inspire oa with a geito* { 
xoos principle of oidvevsal lore aikd charity aad \ 
good-will to mankind; in short> sinoe 'the con* ; 
nands of God are not gxievoas/ but his 'yoke is • 
easy, and his burden light;' it ntanifntly fottows^l 
that as a good life is the highest wisdom^ io a^^ 
widLed one is the extreme of foUyttDd madness, i 

A PRAYER. 

O HOST gndons Godt uHlib, oat of thy ff^tx 
love and tender regard for mankind, faatft set be* 
fore us life and 'death, blessing and cursing ; and 
hast endowed us with a £reedom (tf will, and li* 
berty to choose the one and avoid the other: and, 
to encourage us to make a right choice, hast an- 
nexed a present as well as future reward tti our 
obedience to thy laws, abd made the ways of rrii* 
gion ways of pleasantness, and all its padu «> be 
peace : O give me insdom and understanding) that 
I may not be carried away by the deceitful plea- 
sures of diis world ; but may see, and know, and 
choose, the things whieh make for my peace, and 
wherein my true and only happiness do& coniist* 

Convince me more and more that sin is 'liie 
graatest of oU evils; that guilt and mise^ are al« 
waya inseparable; and that there is no other solid 
and substantial h^pineis to be attained in tUii 
life^ bat «hat which resets from die testimony of a 



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Q9 A BSLIGIQUS IiIF£. 179 

good CQBflcieaM^ toid th9 hopos, of tby favour and 
accepUmce: and grant that tlies^ momentouf 
troths mxy be so deeply impressed npoa my mind, 
that I may malce it the nnceie endeavour of my 
^diole Ufs to please and obey Thee> who art my 
eoven^n good aad happiness; the only sure foun- 
dation of ell my hopes> both here aiid hereafter; 
and in comparison to whose Hyjoox, all the ho- 
noiiSy richee, end eiQoymenta of this world are as 
nothing. 

Delivev me, I beseech thee, from the shame and 
anguish, the horror and confusion, of a guilty con- 
■cienoe; and give me thut comfort and compl«- 
oeney of mind, which arises from the conscious* 
ness of having been faithful in thy service, and 
obedient to thy will. And, since thou hast been 
graciously plaaaed to make diy service the most 
perfect freedom, and the practice of our duty so 
conducive to our present aa well as future well- 
being, O make me steadfast and immoveable in the 
ways of thy laws, and in the works of thy com- 
mandments ; that> having faithfully served thee in 
this life, I vMy at-last be found meet tp be a par- 
taker of th<{ inheritance of the .saints in light, 
through the sole merits aad inteieeflBion of our 
eternal advocate and mediator, Jesus Christ. 
Amen. 



CHAP. II. 

In the foregoing chapter I have endeavoured to 
shew that religion is the only solid foundation of 
happiness in ^s world, the only thing that can 
mike us pass 'the time of oar pilgrimage here on 
earth with any tolerable ease and satisfoction. I 



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180 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

■liall nam proceed, in the next place, to < 
the great advantage of a good life, firom the coin- 
foitable prospect it gitres as when we come to die. 
And this is an advantage pecoliar to ▼irtne and 
religion, and to which a life of sin and tfickedneas 
never pretended. The most which thai piomisea 
its votaries, is 'to regale their senses for a little 
while : it gives them no hopes beyowi the gnve« 
nor aims at any thing farther than a shart4ived 
happiness. 'When a wicked man dieth,. his es- 
pectations shall perish;' ProT.zi. 7. 'For what is 
the hope of the hjrpooite, though he hath gained^ 
all that this world can give him, ■* when God taketh 
away his soolf Job xxvii. 8. All Ids enjoyments 
are dienat anend; and those schemes upon which 
he has built his happiness will vanish and comn to 
nothing. But with a good man.it is far otherwise : i 
he looks beyond this present lile, and beholds with \ 
an eye of faith the heavenly ' Jerusalem, the city f 
of the living God';' that place of endless bliss and | 
happiness, which God has prepared for them that j 
love him. In the hopes and expectations of this , 
happiness, he oonnders himself 'as a pilgrim and : 
a stranger upon earth ;' and is daily endeavoar- 
ing, through the assistance of God's Holy Sfntit, : 
by a life of virtue and righteoocness, to beeome * 
meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of th«i 
saints in light. i 

It most, indeed, be owned, that death is the 
great king of terrors ; that the dissolution of soul 
and body, and the tfaongfau of becoming a prey to 
the devouring worms, earriea in it something veiy 
Shocking to human nature ; yet, to a good man» 
tf eath appears in a qnite different vieW' He con- 
aiders, that to leave this world .is only to quit a 
place of troidile and vexation, of vanity and et^f^ 



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• OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 181 

tin«u; it ii, to leave ' a banen and dry wildemeM . 
-where no water is/ for the deligbtfal regions of ; 
bliss and happiness^ where are rivers of pleasure, 
and a never-ceasing spring of endless comfort* 
which will satisfy the most longing desires of the 
■oul. He considers^ that ' though this earthly ta- 
bernacle is dissolved, yet he has a building of God, 
a house not made with hands, eternal in the hea- 
vens;' and is assured with Job, * that his Redeemer 
Uveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day 
upon the earth \ and that though his body be de- 
stroyed^ yet in his flesh he shall see God, whom he 
shall see for himuHf, and hi» eyes shall behold, and 
not another's;' Job xix. 25—27. 
' This is what religion promises to them, 'who 
by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for 
glory, and honour, and immortality/ It is the 
hopes and expectations of this«unspeakable hap- 
piness that fortify the nund of a good Christian, 
and give him a courage and resolution which even 
death itself shall not be able to shake. 
• It was this that gave holy David such a firmness 
of mind, as made him say, * Though I walk through 
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
«vil, for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff 
comfort me \' Psal. xxiii. 4. He had made God his 
portion, his hope, and his trust. ' The Lord,' says 
he, * is my stony ruck and my defence, my Saviour, 
my God, and my might, in whom I will trust ; my 
buckler, the horn also of my salvation ;' Psal. xviii. 
2. And though we find him sometimes complain- 
ing, 'that the sorrows of death had compassed 
'him, and the overflowings of ungodliness made 
him afraid ; that the pains of hell came about him, 
and the snares of death overtook him*/ yet the 
great confidence he had in the goodness and love 



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U2 THE 6RBAT IMPORTANOE 

of God, and die fiim bsUef of a be^er life aftef ; 
the piesenty overcame all hU f ear*. * I had lainfc- ; 
ed/ says he> * bat that I Terily believe to see the f 
goodness of the Lord in the land of the living}' I 
Psal. xzvii. 13. 

Religion has been the sapport of good m«n ia 
|all ages. Tt is ceitain, whoevef leans npon ai^t 
Ithing else wiU find that he trusts to a broken reed, I 
iwhich vdll bend under him. There ia nothing (as | 
'l have observed in the fonner chapter) but the 
testimony of a good conscience/ and the hopea of 
the favour and love of God^ that is able to bear a 
man up under the weight and pressure of any great 
calamity; much less will any thing else he a fu^ 
ficient sapport at the hour of death. We shall lAat 
be stripped of all the pleasures and enjoyments of 
this world, of all those things in which we ar^ 
now apt to plac^so great a confidence; and> onr 
less we are fortified ' with a shield of faith, and the 
bieast*plate of righteousness/ unless we have 'put 
on the Lord Jesus/ and are clothed with the kJn9 
of his righteousness, we shall be left naked and 
defenceless to encounter death, with all its tenoT*. 
The sinner, how much soever he may now 'tmst j j 
in the Multitude of his riches,' and 'stvengthakP 
himself in his wickedness/ must ihv\ give up all U 
his dependencies, and descend into the regions } { 
of daitness, not only without hope, bat (what is I ' 
y«t more terrible) with dreadful expectations. Of ( ' 
what infinite moment then is it to us all, so to live, i 
that 'when the time appointed for our great change 
shall come,' we may meet death without fear and ^ 
astonishment, and, with an humble confidence, 
may look up to God, in an assured hope of his ' 
merey in Christ Jesus I 
A good life is, indeed^ the sure plsdne of ft h^i- 



OF it RELIGIOUS LIFE. 183 

py death. As it Alls our minds with joy and satis* \ 
nction while we lire, far stkrpasaing all the plea* h 
sores of sensaal gratifications; so^ when we come A 
to die> it giy68 ns that 'peace of God which pass- y 
edi aU understanding/ When a mtai, in his last j 
hour, can look hack upon a life well spent^ and can I 
say^ with kmg Hezekiah, 'Remember^ how, O \ 
Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walkied befoie } 
thee in tmth, and with a perfect heart, and have) 
done that which is good in thy sight,' Ito. xxxviiij 
3 ; what an nnspeakable satisfaction niiist it be to 
him I How mild and Calm wUl death then appear ! 
and with how little (»ncem will he receive its smn^- 
mons ! I^th what cheeifalness will he ^en take 
leave of this world, and aU that was dear to him . 
in it ! And how contentedly will he quit his earthly 
tabernacle, when he considers that be is to exchange ■ 
it for ' a building of God, a house not made with 
hands, eteinal m the heavens '/ I say, what an 
nnspeakable comfort must it be to a dying man, . 
when he is entering into the valley of the shadow \ 
of death,' to have before him a bright prospect of 
life and glory; to find the light of God's counte* 
nance shining npon his mind, and the comfoMs of 
his Holy Spirit cheering and refreshing his soul^ 
to be able to l^ok up to God with a filial confidence, 
and, with a 'h<^ full of glory and immortality,^ 
to resign his soul into the hands of 'hu Maker; not 
doubting but his heavenly ^Father, whom he has 
faithfully served in this world, will takfl| careof him, 
and reward him, in the next; and that the same 
infinite power and goodness, which has carried him 
safe through this 'vale of tears and misery,' wUl 
eonduct him in his passage to a. blessed etcomity ! 
O, how far more happy must the death of such a it 
one be than the most envied state of the greatest || 



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184 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

mortal ! Who would not wish ' to die the death of ^\ 
the righteous, and that his last end may be like his V j J 
Especially, 

If we consider, in the neit place, the miserable 
condition of a wicked man when death approaches. 
Bat how shall I describe the agonies and convul- 
stons of mind which a despairing sinner labours 
under in his last hour ! Who can express the an- 
guish and torment that he feels who is under the 
terror of death and damnation! ' The spirit of a 
man,' says Solomon, 'will sustain his iufixmi^, 
but a wounded spirit who can bear?' Prov. xyi6. 
14. The most exquisite pains and torments of the 
body are nothing compared with what a dying sin- 
ner feels from the stings of his guilty conscience. 
With what shame and confusion does he then look 
back upon the actions of his past life ! How does 
he tremble and stand confounded at the remem- 
brance of those sins which were once the darling 
objects of his guilty desires! And what a horrible 
dread overwhelms, his mind, when he considers 
that he is entering upon that unchangeable state 
from which he knows there is no redemption! that 
he is going to give an account of a life, which he 
cannot reflect tipon without horror and amasement, 
and for which he is justly afraid he shall, in a few 
moments, be consigned to endless misery and tor- 
ments! How does he condemn himself, when his 
conscience reproaches him for having spent that 
time insignificantly or wickedly, whi(£ was given 
him for noble and excellent purposes; that he has 
neglected the great and important work of his sal- 
vation, and been deaf to all the calls and invitations 
of God's Holy Spirit; that, instead of laying up in, 
store a good foundation of hope and comfort against 
the day of trouble, which is now come upon him, i 



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OF A BELIQIOUS LIFB. 185 

be has ke«p«d up to hiniMlf a dreadful lotd of 
gaSM, wlkifih is xeady to iink himintb its intolenhle 
%«g}itl 

O wretched maxi, what woaldit thoa gpve^ weie 
it in thy power to recal thoee pvecione momeafts 
which diott hast Uviahed away in ain and raaity 1 
How dost thou wish that thou 'hadst known' in 
time 'the things that belong to thy peace I' Bat, 
alas! 'they are nowhiddenfrom thine eyes;' and 
nothing is left bat darkness and despwr. 

Bat let OS suppose the life of a dying person not 
to hare been so flagrant and vicioos as to iiU his 
Bind with such Uack and despaixiog thought! ; 
yet if, upon the review of it in his last hour> he 
inds in it such a mixture <ji good and evil, that he 
Is in great doubt and aneeitainty coneeming his 
eternal welfare, how sad and disconsolate must his 
eondition even then be ! and what a dreadfol anx* 
iety will he labour under, when he considers that 
he is leaving thia world, and going he knows not . 
whither; that he is just launching out into the 
boundless ocean of eternity, end that the next mor 
ment he may sink into the terrible abyss of end- 
less miseiy and torment! It is, without all ques- 
tion* a most distressful circumstance to be doubtftd 
of a matter, of which it so nearly concerns us to 
have some highly probable assurance. 

O that men would be persuaded seriously to 
think on ihese things ! That they would ' be wise, 
and consider their latter end!' Deut. xxxii. 29; 
nnd, as the Psalmist advises, would 'keep inno- 
cency, and take heed to the tfajng that is rightl for 
fhat,' and that only, 'shall bring a man peace at 
the last f Psalm xxxvii. 37. And who is there so 
atopid that would not wish for so invaluable a bless* 
ing? What wise man would not rather submit to 



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186 THE GRSAT IMPORTANCE 

the wont that coold befal liim here in « tlhort life,« 
than nm the least risk of going oat of this worid 
under the terrors of a guilty conscience? It ie 
(whatever those who are carried away by their 
lasts and passions may think), it is the atmost wi^ 
dom of man to prepare for his latter end, by oon- 
dacting himself according to the will of his great 
Creator; for it is certain, however some may 
vainly flatter themselves, there is no leaving this' 
world with any tolerable oomposare, unless oar 
lives have been such as, through the tender mer- 
cies of God and the merits of Christ Jesos, to giv« 
ns a reasonable hope that we may be foond in the 
number of those whom our great Judge shall at the 
last day pronounce Vletied, But this can only be 
the lot and portion of the righteous; for how can 
any one, whose life has been a direct eontradictioli 
to the wiU of God, entertain hopes of his favour? 
Perhaps, when he sees death approaching, he may 
lament and bewail the folly of his past conduct, 
and, * with strong crying and tears,' resolve upon 
a new coarse of life, if it should please God to 
spare him. But, since the gospel hath nowhere 
assured us that God will accept of a death-bed re- 
pentance, or be reconciled to a sinner, who (after 
having lived a wicked and careless life, and been 
deaf to all the calls and invitations of the Boly 
Spirit, the threatenings of the gospel, and the 
checks of his own conscience) shall at the last^ 
when he is able to gratify his lusts no longer, and 
begins to fear the sad consequences of his sins; 
cry out for mercy, and wish that he had been wise 
in time : I say, since Grod has nowhere revealed 
that he will accept of any repentance which is not 
followed by a thorough change and amendment of 
life, and a sincere obedience to his commandments; 



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OP A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 187 

and since it is impodftilde for a dyiiig sinneT-ttf 
bring forth such fruits of repentance^ how preca- 
rious must Aw hopes be that are built upon so un- 
certain a foundation ! 

It is true, to repent is all that a man who has 
led a wicked life can do when he comes to die; and 
it would be well for his own sake, and for the sake 
of his sorrowful friends and relations, that he would 
do this much, and not go out of the world hardened 
and insensible ; for who knows how far infinite 
mercy may be extended ? But, surely, it must be 
the greatest instance of folly and madness to hazard 
a matter of such infinite moment upon so uncer- 
tain an issue; upon a few, broken, confused, and 
almost despairing sighs and groans : for, if the re- 
morse and horrors, the solemn vows and resolu- 
tions, of such men should not prove a true godly 
sorrow, * a repentance to salvation, not to be re- 
pented of ' (as no man can say they certainly will), 
they are lost and undone to all eternity. 

But suppose we could be assured that a death- 
bed repentance would be effectual ; yet who can 
tell whether a man may have time for that work 
in the hour of death % Or, if he could be certain 
that a lingering sickness would put an end to his 
days, yet how does he know that God will then 
vouchsafe him the grace of repentance? and with- 
out thait grace it is impossible he should repent. 
O, how much rather may such a one fear, lest God 
should be so provoked, by his many wilful refusals 
to hearken to the calls and admonitions of thd 
Holy Spirit, as to cut short his day of grace, and 
deliver him over to a hardened and reprobate 
mind! 

The Scripture assures us that there is a time 
when men shall call upon God, and he wiU not 



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lai t0;b qrbat importance 

hewken/ «B«caiiM I have ealled, and ye i»* 
foaed: I Have sti^tched out my hand* and no man 
r^gavded : bat y^ bare act at nought all my oomi* 
sel^ and would none of my reproof^ I also will 
Uuigb at yow calamity; I will mock when yonr 
leax cometb ; when your fear cometh at deaolatioii> 
and your destroction oometh at a whirlwind ; when 
dittnaa and angniah cometh upon yon. Then ahall 
tfafiy call upon me, but I will not anawer; they 
will aeek me early, but they shall not find me : ftv 
that they hated knoidedge, and did not chooie the 
fear of the Iioid : they would none of my eounael : 
they defpiaed all my reproof. Therefore shaH 
they eat of the fruit ci their own way, and be filled 
widi their own devicea ;' Prov. i. 24, &o. Hie end 
of the lottg^aufferiag and f orbearanoe of God ia, ' to 
lead men to repentance,' Rom. ii. 4 ; but if, inatead 
of producing that bleaaed effect, it only hardena 
them in their aina, and makea them reaohred to go 
on in their wicked couraea, vainly preaoming they 
ahall repent when they come to die ; how joat may 
it be in God to leave them at their laat hour, under 
all the terrora and agonies of a fearful death ! 'to 
laugh at their calamity, and to mock when their 
fear cometh !' 

' O consider thia, all ye that fbiget God, leat be 
pluck you away, and there be none to deliver yen.' 
Ck>naider it in due time, before it be too late, be- 
fore the dreadful hour cornea upon you, when all 
opportnnitiea of reconciling yourselves to your of- 
fended God ahall be taken from you, and Uie door 
of hope ahall be for ever abut. Silence the cla» 
mour of your paaaiona, and liaten to the threaten- 
inga of God'a holy word, the admonitiona of his 
bleaaed Spirit, and the checka of your own oonacik 
aneea. Be peziuaded to yet about the great work 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. m 

of yoor nlvmiWL ' to*day, while St i* called to-dlty, 
befne tke iright eomech, when no uui can woAJ 
Bemember, that though you ate now, peihapB, 'm 
health and itiength, in Ae prime and vigour of 
yonryeaisy Mmoimded with ^e pleasuns of agrect 
and splendid fntone, yet the time is coming, and> 
whether yoa think of it or net, if haatenxng on 
apace, when you mast take yoor leave of all Uiat 
is deairable upon earth. Nothing will ihm stand 
yoa in any stead but a good ooascienoe; ndther 
honours, nor £riches, nor any thing else that men 
are now so fond of, will then be able to give yon 
one moment's ease, or afifbrd yon one comfortabla 
thought. Nodiing will be thm rsgarded but the 
conseioiuness of having, in some measnre, an* 
sweied the end for which God s^nt yoa into the 
wdrid( by having lived in die fear and love of 
God, ' and in simplitity and godly sincerity having 
had yonr convexaation in this worid.' 
. It was this that made St. Paol desire 'to be dis- 
solved, and to be with Christ;' for he had ' fought 
a good fight, and kept die faith.' And, therefore, 
he could say with great assorance, when ' the time 
of his departave was at hand, that there was laid 
vp for him a crown of righteovsness, which the 
Iioxd, the righteous Jndge, should give him at that 
day;' 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. And it was this that made 
a late (noos divine of oor chnrch^when he was near 
his dMth, utter these remarkable expressions : ' I 
am entering upon my last labour : the Lord gave, 
and he is now taking away; blessed be the name 
of the Lord! for, I thank my God, I am going 
Wtthout any distrust, without the least misgiving, 
to a place of rest, and joy, and everlasting bliss, 
tlveore it no life' like a happy death. I have en- 
deavtfia*ed> eves hem my youth, to approve my- 



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190 THE GREAT IMPORTANOE 

self a feithfal servant to xny great Master. J have 
taken some pains in writing several books ; T have 
seriously considered them ; and am folly satisfied/ 
looUng on those about him, 'that you may find in 
them the way to heaven. The Christian dudes 
^ntained therein have been my practice, as well 
as study; and now I find the advantage of it. And 
therefore be careful to read them often and seri- 
ously; and live suitably thereunto^ that when yon 
come to the condition I am now in, you may die 
with comfort, as you see me do. I have some little 
pain, indeed ; but my pain is nothing so extraor- 
dinary as my hopes : for I have earnestly repented 
of all my sins, and verily believe that, through the 
tender mercies of my God, and the merits of my 
blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, I shall be carried np 
into Abraham's bosom.' After which, it is said, 
he made this short prayer: 'I wait, O God, for 
that everlasting rest which I want at present, bat 
shall not long. I am ready, when thou, my God, 
callest for me, yet can stay with patience till thou 
pleasest: for thy time is the best time, and thy 
pleasure the best pleasure.' 

See here the end of a good man. How calm, 
how sexene and comfortable is his death I Is there 
any thing like this in the case of a wicked man in 
the hour of his dissolution? Alas! no. If yon be- 
hold such a person in his last extremity (unless he 
die hardened and impenitent), you will hear little 
else but bitter reflections, sad bewailings, wretched 
upbiaidings of himself, for the folly and madness 
of his past life ; together with despairing sighs and 
groans, black and dreadful to himself, and veiy 
terrible to all about him. May God, of his infinite 
mercy, keep every one from soch a dreadful hour! 
' and teach us all so to number our days, as to ap^ 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 191 

ply our hearts onto wisdom \' that true wisdom, 
which will make us wise unto salvation, fill our 
minds with comfort and sati8£actioB while we live ; 
and, what is of infinitely more value, give ns> when 
we come to die, ' that peace of God which passeth ' 
all understanding,' through Jesus Christ onr Lord. 
Amen* 

A PRAYER. 

. O MOST great and mighty God! in whose hands 
are the issues of life and death I Thou orderest 
«11 things hy thy infinite power and. wisdom, and 
hast iq»pointed for all men once to die^ and» after 
.this, short life is ended, hast, of thy infinite good- 
ness, provided for thy faithful servants a qtate of 
jendlesa bliss and happiness. O! make me truly 
sensible of the frailty and uncertainty of my. life; 
;and teach me so to number my days, that I may 
apply my heart unto true wisdom. Let not death 
ever surprise me unawares, or find me in a state 
unprovided. But grant that I may live in such a 
constant preparation for my latter end, that, how 
suddenly soever thou shalt be pleased to take me 
out of this world, I may be found ready and pre* 
pared for that great account which I must one day 
give before the judgment-seat of Christ. Enable 
me, by the assistance of thy grace and Holy Spirit, 
to finish the great work of my salvation before the 
night comes, when no man can work, and to lay a 
good foundation of hope and comfort against the 
hour of my death ; that, when the hour of my de- 
parture shall come, I may look back upon a well- 
spent life with joy and comfort, and may meet 
dealh without fear. 
Look npon mt, most gracious God, when U»e 



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^ 



THE GREAT IMPORTAJfCB 



toBA xS. my disBolvtion draws nigh, as a raooadleil 
Fadisr in Christ Jesos. Speak peaee onto my co»i 
sdeaeoy and say onto my soul, ' I am the God af 
thy salvation/' Let ni»t the crori enemy of soob 
afiaghten me with his tenots; but give thy holy 
aageb chazge oyw me» tolceep meoatof his hands; 
and let the comforts of thy Holy Spirit checnr and 
cherish my soul in its passage through this vale of 
tears and misery to a happy eternity. 

O Lotd! leave me not to myself in that time of 
dSstfe8S> when I shall stand in so araeh aeed^ of 
thee. Coofinn my IsiUi; support me in my dying 
i^^es ; and foisake me not when my strength 
&ilelh. I<et thy mereifQl eazs, O God, be tiiea 
open to my prayers ; and spare me, O Lord jnost 
holy, O God moat mighty, O holy and mercifiit 
Saviour, thon most worthy Judge eternal! voEmt 
me not at my last hour, throng anypainaof body, 
01' weakness of mind, to renounce my dependanoa 
spoa thee. But grant, O meicilnl Father, that, 
wiHi an hmiAle lalianoe on Ihy mercies, and ^a 
infinite meriia of my dear Bedeemer, and with sn 
entire submissioik to thy blessed will, I may chear* 
Inlly resign op my soul into thy haadsi, and may ba 
wiiliag, and even desiioos, to leav« this worid^ 
when thou, my God,in thy great wisdom, shaUaea 
it fitting, 

O Lord I let ma never be l e pai t ed from thee; 
but grant that my soul any be so united to thae^ 
who artthe fdness of all happiness^ by the siiouge a t 
ties of faithy love, scud obedience, that, after a lifa 
spent here in thy service, I ma^ dwell with tliae 
in life evwla8tiiig,«nd be icecived into those nan- 
sions of eternal bliss and glory, whidi thonlMBat 
pnpand for them that tr^ love and fear Aae. 



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OP A aSLJOIOUS LJFB. 1^ 

Gia&t this, O Lozd, through the merits^ tiM for 
the sake, of thy beloved Son, Jwus Christ, our 
enly Saviour. 

I 

CHAP. III. i 

Hitherto T have considered the great advantages 
of religion as they respect only our woU-being in 
this world, and our going comfortably out of it. C\T^^ 
But, as there are other advantages attendin g^ geod^ ^. \;r^ 
life ^ infinitely beyond all that have been inei^on-^ ^V 
ed; namely, that it will entitle us, t hrough the v\l# 
meriU of * Christ Jesus , to ap qUiCTitance inc oj" ^>Jl^ 
T"P^bffi-'*"*^ nndftiileJ. andihat fadath not away^ ^ , 

I shall endeavour to shew, in the last place, that a v^^^J 
serious and conscientious observance of the duties ^^ / 
of religion will most certainly be rewarded with ^ 0^ 
eternal happiness in the life to come. \^ 

. And here I shall not presume so much as to aim 
9t a descripUon of that ' exceeding weight of glory' 
which Qod has reserved for those that truly love 
him. In the Scripture, indeed, the glories of the 
9ther world axe ^represented to us, in oondeseeft* 
sion to our weak capacities^ as a ' kingdom and a 
CTQvn; an eternal kingdom, and a never>fadjng 
eiown :' but the state is so unknown to us, and so 
much above our imperfect conceptions, that we 
fhall never be able ^ly to comprehend it,.till we 
arrive at the actual enjoyment of it. For, |h(Migh 
we know that we shall there see God, and the 
l»lei8ed lesus,who * loved us, and gave l^mself for 
11^/ and shall to all etemitir ei^joy him who is the 
foniee and fountain of all good} that we shall there 
eonvezse with saints and angels, and for ever be 
PTT^y i ^ anthems of praise to our great Creator and 
' JEUdeemer i yet^ how great the pleasure of this will 
K 



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194 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

be^ and with what extasies and raptures oar soub 
■hall then break forth, when they taste of the ' ful- 
ness of that joy which is in the presence of God for 
evennore/ is what our infinite understandings can- 
not possibly reach. (H this, however, we may rest 
assured, that the things which God hath resenred 
for them that love him are such ' as neither eye 
hath seen, nor ear heard, nei^er hath it entered 
into the heart of man to conceive.' And as this is 
sufficient for us, at present, to know, in general, 
concemii^ this matter, all curious inquiries into 
the precise nature of the happiness of the next life 
will be of smalt use to us : they may fill our heads 
with fine speculations, but will signify little to di- 
rect our practice. What we are more concerned to 
know, and in the most explicit manner, is, that 6ar 
sincere obedience to God's commandments will cer- 
tainly be rewarded with eternal life and happiness.' 
This, indeed, is a matter which it imports us to -be 
well assured of; that we may not be weary of wett- 
deing, but 'may run with patience the race that is 
set before us,' Heb. xii. 1. and press towards the 
maik for the 'prize of the high calling of God in 
Christ Jesus ;' Phil. iii. 14. 

There are some, indeed (and a melancholy (•«' 
flection it is that there are any such), who wovld 
have us believe, that we die like the beasts wfaidi 
perish^ and that when we leave this world there is 
an end of our existence. ' But these, upon inquiry, 
I believe, will be always found to be persons who 
fifstlive as if there was no God, and then endea- 
vour to persuade themselves and others, that thera 
really is none ; so that, instead of regulating their 
prsictice by their faith, they do most preposterously 
tuft their faith to their practice. I shall not coki- 
cetQ*^ myself at present with these men ; my design 



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OF A KELIGIOUS LIFE. 195 

^ing chiefly for the sake of those who heliere the 
Christiiin religion, and the revelation of Ood's will 
in the holy Scriptures. And surely to such it can 
be no doubt, but that in those sacred writings 'we 
have eternal life;' and that the performance of 
God's commandments is the certain and indispen- 
sable condition of obtaining it. 

It is true, natural religion will teach us, not only 
that * God is, but that he is a rewarder of them 
that diligently seek him/ But it hath pleased God, 
of his great goodness, not to leave us to the light 
of nature alone to discover this weighty truth. 
The rewards of another life are so fully and clearly 
revealed in the writings of our Savioitr and his 
apostles, and the way to obtain them is there so 
plainly laid down, that there is no room for any 
doubt or uncertainty concerning that matter. What- 
ever dark or impeifect notions the Jews, as well as 
QeatUes, had of a future state, it is certain, 'that 
life and immortality is now brought to light by the 
gospel;' and we may rest assured, that though, 
when we die, our bodies shall be laid in the cold 
chambers of the grave, and there become the food 
of worms, and moulder into dust, yet it will not be 
long * ere this corruptible shall put on incormption, 
and thirmortal shall put on immortally;' I Cor. 
XV. 53.^' For Gk>d hath appointed a day in t^e 
which he will judge the world in righteouaneis, by 
that man whom he hath ordained; whereof he 
hath given assurance unto, all men, in that he hath 
nifled him from the dead;' Acts xvii. 31 : a day 
' wherein we must all appear before the judgment* 
■eat of Christ, that every one may receive the things 
done in his body, according to that he hath done, 
whether it be good or bad;' 2 Cor. v. 10.-^ And 
then ^all that are in their graves shall hear his 



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196 THB QBBAT IMPORTANCE 
voice, aod shall come forth : they that have doi^ 
goodj ttxito the lesnrrecdon of life ; and they that 
have done evil, unto the lesonection of damsft- 
tioo;' John V. 28, 29. 

He then^ho believes' the gdspel (as [every one 
most that lives nnder the influence of it, unless he 
be wretchedly blinded liy his lusts and paasionsX 
can never doubt of these two great articles of the 
Christian religion, * the resurrectionaof the body, 
and the life everlasting/ The possibility of the 
fpnner hath been made evident by the lesunectioB 
of Jesus Christ flrom the dead ; and the certainly 
oCthe latter appears from the express deelaiatiotaB 
of Crod in the holy Scriptures. Indeed, the whole 
tenor of the Christian religion sufficiently proves 
it ; every precept of which tends to purify and le- 
fixie our natures, and to fit and prepaie us for the 
society of saints and angels in another life* The 
MKMtle assures us, that ' God hath not appointed 
ns to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lozd 
Jesus Christ, who died for us that we should live 
together with him;' 1 Thes. v. 9, 10.— And St. 
John tells us, that ' God so loved the world, that 
he gave his only begotten Son, to the end that all 
that believe in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life ;' John iii. 16. 

If then we believe that Gk>d is infinitely jusC and 
true, we can never doubt that, at the great day of 
retribution, * he will render to every man aecofd- 
ing to his deeds. To them, who, by patient • con- 
tinnance in well-doing, seebfor glory, and honoor, 
• and imi^ortality,' he (who is fnOK itself, and can- 
not deo»t«e) hath'promised * eternal life : but to 
them wlio are contentious, and do not obey the 
tmth, but obey unrighteousness,' he hath deefaured 
diat he will pour forth * indignation and irmb. 



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OP A RELIGIOUS LIFE. M7 

tribvlatioii and anguish, upon every soul of man 
that doth evil ; of the Jew first, and also of the 
Gentile ;' Rom. ii. 6—9. 

Oar Saviour, in his exposition of the parahle of 
the 'tares/ tells us, that, ' at the end of the world 
the Son of Man shall send forth his angels, and 
they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that 
offend^ and them which do iniquity, and shall cast 
them into a furnace of fire : there shall be walling 
and gnashing of teeth;' Matt. xiii. 40— 42.—- And 
so in his exposition of the parable of the ' net,' in 
the same chapter, he sa3rs, that, at * the end of the 
woxld, the angels shall come forth and sever the 
wicked from among the just, stnd shall cast them 
into the furnace of fire : there shall be wailing and 
gnashing of teeth;' ver. ^, 50.— Thus again we 
are told by our Saviour, that * when the Son of 
Man shall come in his glory, and all the holy an- 
gels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of 
his glory, and before him shall be gathered all na- 
tions, and he shall separate them one from another, 
as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats : 
and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but 
the goats on the left. Then shall he say unto them 
on his right hand. Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the be- 
^nning of the world,' Matt. xxv. 31—34 : ' but to 
them on the left hand. Depart from me, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
angels ;' ver. 41.—' And these shall go away into 
everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life 
eternal;' ver. 46. 

This, as it is a plain and lively description of the 
awful solemnity of that great an<^ tremendous day, 
^when the Son of Man shall come in the glory of 
his Father^ with his angels, to judge the quick and 



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196 THE 6RBAT IMPORTANCE 

the dead/ Matt. xvi. 27; so it is sufficient to eon- 
vince us, that though ' without holiness no man 
shall see the Lord/ Heb. xii. 14, yet that evexy 
one that believes the gospel, and sincerely obeys 
the precepts of it, shall assuredly ' enter into the 
kingdom of heaven/ This was the very purchase 
of Christ's blood, and the end for which he was con- 
tented to be given up into the hands of cruel men, 
to be bu£feted, spit upon, and evil-entreated, and 
at last to suffer a cruel and ignominious death upon 
the cross. ' He gave himself for us, that he might 
redeem us from all iniquity,* Tit. ii. 14, and * be- 
come the author of eternal salvation to all them 
that obey him/ Heb. v. 9. — ' Though he was rich, 
yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through 
his poverty might be made rich / 2 Cor, viii. 9. — 
' He was wounded for our transgressions, he was 
bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are 
healed / Isa. liii. 5. 

The redemption of mankind was thought a de- 
sign worthy the Son of God. The souls of men 
were of .so great a value in Am sight, that he 
esteemed nothing too much, or too great, to suffer 
for their sakes. He saw and pitied our misery, 
and knew that without a Saviour we must be lost 
for ever; and therefore condescended so far as to 
humble himself even to the death upon the cross, 
for us miserable sinners, who lay in darkness and 
the shadow i>f death, that he might make us, the 
children of God, and exalt us to everlasting life. 
So that though we ' were sometimes afar off,' yet 
being 'now made nigh by the blood of Christ, we 
are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow- 
citizens with the saints, and of the household of 
God / Ephes. u. 18, 19.— And if we are caiefol to 



,i ^. 'oj:X.^:^v An^ 



OF A KELIGIOUS LIFB. 199 

p erform oiir j)»rUA we may assuredly say with St. 
Paal> that 5benceforth there is laid up for us a 
crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righte- 
ous Judge^ shall give us at that day ;''2 Tim. iv. 8. 
—For we have the promise of him who is truth 
itself, and cannot deceive us, that, if we are 'faith- 
ful unto deaths he will give us a crown of life j' 
Rev. ii. 10. 

And what a glorious incitement is this to all 
men 'to live soberly, righteously, and godlily, in 
this present world !' What can be more effectual 
to make us ' steadfast and unmoveable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord,' than to know, 
* that our labour shall not be in vain in the Lord,' 
I Cor. .XV. 58 'f that no good action which we do 
shall be lost and fruitless; onthe contrary, that in 
a little time all our services will be infinitely re- 
warded ; that every grace and virtue which we ex- 
ercise in this life, and every degree of them, ' shall 
receive their just recompense at the resurrection of 
the just; and that, if we serve God faithfully and 
sincerely, we may be assured, that, through the 
tender mercies of our heavenly Father, and the 
merits of our Redeemer, we shall be received into 
a place of everlasting rest and peace; where we 
shall adore and praise the Author of our salvation, 
and contemplate the glorious perfections of his 
majesty, with a joy and satisfaction infinitely ex- 
ceeding all that we can now possibly conceive ? 

' O blessed time!' (to ^use the words of Arch- 
bishop Tillotson) ' when mortality shall be swal- 
lowed up of life ! and death and sorro# shall be no 
more ! when we shall be eased of all our pains, and 
resolved of all our doubts, and be purged from all 
our sins, and be freed from all our fears, and be 
happy beyond our hopes ! and have all this happi- 



Un ^Al^ w^ i^*' ^ j4f:_ 



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im THfi GREAT IMPORTAt^CE 

ness secured to us beyond the power of timt tuid 
change !' 

As these considerations cannot but at present fill 
our hearts, ' with joy unspeakable/ and excite ns 
continually ' to give thanks unto the Father, which 
hath made us meet to be partakers of the inherit* 
ance. of the saints in light; who hath delivered us 
from the power of darkness, and translated us into 
the kingdom of his dear Son/ Col. i. 12> 13; so, 
when we come to have a nearer and more imme* 
diate view of the glories of that kingdom which 
God hath prepared for us, how will our souls break 
forth into extasies of love and joy! how will it 
transport us to see him, whom we have loved and 
faithfully served! to see him not arraigned for a 
malefactor, not hangii^ in a shameful manner 
upon the cross ! but to see him, in all his majeSly 
and glory, sitting in a triumphant manner upon 
his throne, adored by angels andjarchangels; * thoa- 
sand thousands ministering unto him, and ten 
thousand times ton thousand standing before him !' 
Dan. vii. IC To see him, I say, not as an angry 
and incensed judge, but as a merciful Saviour and 
Redeeifier, looking upon his faithful and beloved 
servants with the tenderest affection, and receiving 
them into the arms of his everlasting mercy, with 
those ravishing words, ' Come ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world i' Matt. xxv. 34. 

But then, on the other hand, with what anguish 
and despair will the wicked and ungodly behead 
the dreadful solemnities of that awful day ! how 
will tbey tremble and be confounded, when the 
* Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his 
mighty angels in flaming fire, taking vengeance on 
them that know not God, and dbey not the gospel 



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OF A RSLTGtOUS LIFE. 201 

of oat Lord Jetut Christ!' 2 Thes. w7, 8.--^wheix. 
they thall see the < heavens passing away with a 
great aoiiie, and the elements melting with fervent 
heat; the earth also^ and the works that are there- 
in, bamt up!' 2 Petiii. 10: when they shall behold, 
hell open to receive them, and the great Judge of 
the world, with terror in his looks, ready to pro- 
noimee that dreadfal sentence, — ' Depart ^m me» 
ye cursed^ into. everlasUng fire, prepared for the 
devil and his angels !' Matt. xxv. 41 . 

Oh! in what collusion and agonies will those 
aonla be to.whom those dreadful words then shall 
be spoken! How will they ' call upon the moun- 
tains and rocka to fall on them, and to hide them 
from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and 
firom the wrath of the Lamb!' Rev. vi. 16. — Bat^ 
aUm! what will that avail them, when* the great 
day of -his wrath is come?' Whither shall they 
betake themselves, when ' both the earth and the 
heavens-shall flee from the presence of the Judge I' 
Rev. XX. llw.>-If the Saviour of the world condemns • 
them^ who shall intercede in their behalf 7 If he, 
that once died to purchase their salvation, will not 
save them (as it is certain he will not save the 
wacked4md unpenitent), to whom shall they fly for 
snoeonr ! It will then be too late to ery for mevcy, 
when- the time of judgment is come; too late to 
lament their foUy and madness, when the time of 
woxkhsg is over : all prayers and entreaties, all 
tears and repentance, will then be in vain. ' He 
that is unjust/ must be ' unjust still ; and he that 
is filthy^ must be * filthy still;' Rev. xxii. 11.— 
' As the tree is fallen, so it must lie' for ever. The 
tivie of trial, the day of grace,* is ended, ' and there 
semens no.topte sacrifice for sin-/ but a ' fiery 
indigMtioa' mut 'devour them;' Heb« x. 26,27. 
K2 



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202 THE GREAT IMPORTAKCE 

— ^The dieadlal hour is come^ when fhej mvtt be 
bai^i^ed for ever from the enjo3rment of him 'in 
whose presence* alone is ' fulness of joy/ and be 
doomed to those lakes of fire and brimtftone^ * wheice 
the worm (dieth not^ and the fixe is not quenched ;' 
where they must be bound in .eveilaating chains, 
and be ' day and night, for ehit and ever/ Rev. 
^x. 10, ' tormented' by the devil and his aoeuiaed 
spirits (those cruel and unrelenting beings), in the 
flames of a most outrageous and .never to be ex- 
tinguished fire. 

. 'Could I represent to you,' says aichbishop 
Tillotson, in one of his excellent sermons, * the 
horror of that dismal prison into which wicked 
lAd impure souls are to be thrust, and the miseiy 
they must there endure, without the least spark of 
coiufort, or glimmering of hope y how they irail 
and groan under the intolerable wraih of God, the 
insolent scorn and cruelty of devils, the severe 
Isshes and stings, the raging anguish and hor- 
rible despair of their own minds, without inter- 
mission, without pity, and without hope of ever see- 
ing an end of that misery which yet is^nsupport- 
able for one moment; could I represent thsM 
things to yon according to the tenor of them, 
what effect must they have upon us! with what 
patience could any man bear to think of plunging 
himself into this misery, and,by hisown wilful fanUs 
and follies, endanger his coming into this place and 
state of torments i' 

Oh! who, indeed, can think of these things with- 
out resolving, in g6od earnest, to flee from the 
wrath to come, and to secure a happy eternity, by 
a life of virtue and righteousness! who, that be^ 
lieves ' the wicked shaH be turned into hell, and 
an the people that forget God/ that consideni what 



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6r A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 203 

it is to AynXi in the most exquisite miseiy and tor 
ments to all eternity; who^ I say, that considers 
these tmths will not immediately resolve ' to have 
no fellowship with the unfroitfal works of dark- 
ness/ but give himself up entirely to the service 
and obedience of the blessed Jestis, with unfeigned 
resolutions of « Hying soberly, righteously, and god- 
lily, in this present world !' In a word, who, that 
is truly wise, and considers that time itself, com- 
pared with eternity, is short, and that the time of 
man is much shorter; that eternity has neither end 
nor change.; and that every man is hastening to an 
eternal and invariable state, and will soon be sum^ 
moned to appear before the awful tribunal of Grod, 
tiiere to give an account of his actions ; and, accord- 
ing as he has behaved himself in this life, be then 
consigned to a place of endless happiness or mi- 
sery; who, 1 say, that reflects upon these great and 
important truths with that seriousness and con- 
cern which they deserve, would ever resign his in- 
tegrity, and part with that invaluable prize, 9igoo4 
eofudence, for the greatest happmess this world 
could promise him ! How is it possible that a 
maa^ who will give himself time to consider what it 
is to be under the eternal displeasure of Almighty 
Ood, should do any thing wilfully and deliberately, 
which he knows will provoke his anger! What 
wise man would not rather submit to the worst that 
could befal him here in a short life, than to run the 
least risk of offending him on whom his welfare 
and happiness must depend hereafter, as well as at 
present ; not only in this life, bat through all eterr 
nity; especially when he considers what obliga- 
tions he is under to approve himself a faithful ser- 
vant of his great Master, and to direct and govern 
lus whole conduct by the will of his Creator; 
when he reflects upon the infinite love of God, ma- 



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804 THE GREAT IMPORTANCE 

nifested in all the works of his creation and pr©- 
videuce, but particularly in that stupendous mysteiy 
of our redemption J when he thinks 'upon the 
breadth and length, the height and depth of that 
love of God/ which moved him to send hia only- 
begotten Son into the world, < to be the propitia- 
tion for our sins,' and to sufEer a cruel and ignomi- 
nious death upon the cross, * that we might not 
perish, but have everlasting life V Oh ! how is it 
possible that any man, with such impressions on 
his mind, should not be filled .with so grateful a 
sense of what God has done for him, as to endea- 
vour, all that in him lies, to act suital^ly to the in- 
finite love of so merciful a Father, Iso kind and 
loving a Saviour ! Surely the love of God must 
constrain us. But, if there be any one so stupid 
and insensible as not to be wrought upon by such 
powerful motives, let him reflect upon • the terrors 
of the Lord,' and ask himself seriously this imports 
ant question. Whether he is able to ' dwell with 
everlasting burnings!' Let him think upon that 
terrible day of the Lord, which, whether he thinks 
of it or not, will most assuredly come, * when all 
that are in their graves sball hear his voice, and 
shall come forth : they that have done good^ unto 
the resurrection of life, and they that have done 
'evil, unto the resurrection of damnation,' John v. 
28, 29 : ' when the kings of the earth, and the 
. great' men, and the rich men, shall hide them- 
selves in the dens and in the rocks of the moun- 
tains ; and shall say to the mountains and rocks 
Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him 
that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of 
the Lamb;' Rev. vi. 15, 16. Let him revolve 
in his thoughts the miserable condition of those 
wretched souls that are now shut up in the regions 
of everlasting darkness, among an accursed coin- 



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OF A REUGIOUS LT?K 205 

pany of infernal spirits ; and then tell nie> whether 
he thinks the short and tnomentary pleasures of a 
wicked life will compensate for endless misery and 
torments. 

There is no one, I believe, who thinks at all, 
but must think odierwise. But the great misfor- 
tone is, thai many men are so inflamed by their 
lasts and passions, that they are seldom cool enough 
for sober reflections. Yet if they would be per- 
suaded frequently to meditate upon death and 
judgment^ if they would represent to their minds 
what a vast disproportion Uiere is between time 
and eternity, and consider that the pleasures of 
sin, at best, ' are but for a season,' whereas its 
punishment is endless and intolerable; I say, 
could men be brought to think of these things with 
any seriousness, I doubt not but such thoughts 
' would in time have their proper effect, and would 
so thoroughly convince them of the great folly and 
danger of sin, as to make ihem in good earnest set 
about the great work of their salvation. 

' The judgment to come is a very amazing con- 
sideration: it is a fearful thing to hear of it; but 
it will be much more terrible to see it, especially 
to those whose guilt must needs make them so 
heartily concerned in the dismal consequences of 
it: and yet, as sure as I stand and you sit here, 
'^ this great and terrible day of the Lord will come;*' 
and •' who may abide his coming!" What shall 
we do when that day shall surprise us careless and 
unprepared ! What unspeakable horror and amaze- 
ment will then take hold of us, when *' lifting up 
our eyes to heaven, we shall see ^e Son of Man 
coming in the clouds with power and great glory V 
when tliat powerful voice, which shall pierce the 
ears of the dead; shall ring through the world. 



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!30^ THE &MAT IMPORTANCE 

" Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment!* wh«« 
the mighty trumpet shall sounds and vaken th« 
sleepers of a thousand years^ and summon the 
dispersed parts of the bodies of all men, that eret 
Hved, to rally together, and take their place l aiid 
the souls and bodies of men which have been »6 
long strangers to one another, shsill meet, and h€ 
united again, to receive the doom dufc to their 
deeds! What fear shall then surprise Sinners ! 
and how will they tremble at the presence of the 
greftt Judge, and for the glory of his majesty ! 
How will their consciences fly in their faces, and 
their own hearts condemn them for their wicked 
and ungodly liVfes, and even prevent that sentence, 
which yet shall certainly be passed and executed 
upon theml'—Archbiiiop TiUotton's Sermons, 
vol. ii. p. 412. 

Oh! let me then entreat every one, with all the 
earnestness .that a matter of such vast importance 
requires, frequently and seriously to think upon 
the tremendous day of judgment, and the great ac- 
count they must then give ; to consider with theinr 
selves how their accounts stand with respect to 
another life ; and what a dreadful condition they 
will be in, if they should be called to appear at 
the 'judgment-scat of Christ' before they have 
made their peace with God, and secured an in- 
terest in the merits and intercession of their great 
Judge! But especially let me persuade those who, 
in pursuit of their unlawful pleasures, have plunged 
themselves in sensuality and wickedness, to stand 
still a moment, and consider wither they are a 
going. Let me beg of them, as they have any re- 
gard for their present peace and happiness, or any 
value for their precious souls ; as they would not 
leave this world under the terrors and agonies of a 



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OF A REUOIOUS UFE. 207 

guilty conscience, nor appear at the last day^ in 
the presence of God» a^id angels^ and of men, under 
all die circumstances of horror, shame, and confu- 
sion; and lastly, as they would not then be ba- 
nished from the presence of God for ever, and be 
cast into the bottomless pit of destruction, to be 
there tormented without measure, and without 
end ; let me, I say, prevail upon them not to delay 
their repentance one moment, but immediately 
forsake their evil ways, ' and turn unto the Lord 
theit Grod, who is gracious and mercifnl/ slow to 
anger, and of great kindness,' Joel ii. 3 ; and who 
has assured us by his prophet, that ' when the 
liricked man tumeth away from his wickedness that 
he hath committed, and doeth that which is law- 
ful and right, he shall save his soul alive/ Esek* 
xriii. 27. 

As for those happy Christians who have en- 
tered upon a good life, and are engaged in the 
practice of virtue and religion; who make the 
glory of God, and the salvation of their own souls, 
and the souls of all others, their great care and 
ooncem ; I need only to exhort them to go on in 
their Christian course with courage and resolo^ 
tion ; ' to hold fast their profession/ Heb. iv. 14, 
and, with an unwearied diligence^ 'to press to- 
wards the mark, for the prize of the high calling 
of God in Cljorist Jesus,' Phil. iii. 14; nothing 
doubting, but ' that he that hath begun a good 
work in them, will perform it until the day of Jesus 
Christ ;' Phil. i. 6.~>God is faithful, that has pro- 
mised; and therefore they may rest assured, that 
he will remember and reward 'their work of 
laith and labour of love, and patience of hope in 
ionr ^iord Jepus Christ,'" 1 Thes.!. 3; and that 
in doe seafoa they, shall reap, tf they fafait not.' 



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206 THE GREAT IMPORTAKCE 

Gal. vi. 9. — * Yet a little while, and he that ahall . 
come will come/ Hcb. x. 37 ; ' and his reward is 
with him, to give to every man according as his 
work shall be/ Rev. xxii. 12. — * To him that over- 
cometh he will grant to sit with him in his throne; 
even as he also overcame, and is set down with 
-his Father in his throne \* Rev. iii. 21. 

. O happy, happy time! for. those blessed sotila 
' who have fought the good fight, and kept the 
faith.' All their labours will then be at an end^ 
that ' crown of life,' Rev. ii. 10, which God hath 
promised to his faithful servants, will then be be- 
stowed upon them ; and they shall be admitted 
' to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away ;' 1 Pet. i. 4. — ^They 
shall then be received into a place of endless bliss 
and joy, * where there shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall -there be 
any more pain ; but all tears shall be wiped from 
their eyes,' Rev. xxi. 4 : and they shall for ever 
enjoy the most perfect and consummate happiness, 
and sing eternal ' Hallelujahs of praise and d&anka- 
giving unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and 
to the Lamb for ever and ever.' Amen. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

If a good life be attended with so many advan- 
tages as I hope I have shewn it is ; if it will wi^j ^f 
us live happily, die comfortably, and at last entitle 
us, through the merits'* of our Saviour Jesus Christ, 
to an eternal inheritance in that kingdom which 
he has purchased for us with his precious blood; 
and if, on the other hand> guilt be its own punishp 
ment in this world, and everlasting misery will 
most certainly be the lot and portion of the wicked 



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09 A tlELiaiOVS LIPfi. 209 

and impenitent in the next : 'what manner of per^' 
f9DM ought we to be in all holy conversation and 
godliness \' and how ' steadfast and immoveable* 
should this make us in the ways of God's laws, and 
in the works of his commandments! With what 
indignation and abhorrence should we look upon 
sin; and with what speed should we flee from 
that dreadful enemy of our souls, which would rob 
us of our present, as well as future happiness! How 
should the consideration of these things make us 
'."take heed lest there be in any of us an evil heart 
of unbelief, in .'departing from the living Gk>d ! ' 
Heb. iii. 11.— And how steadfastly should we re- 
solve to ' have no fellowship with the unfruitful 
works of darkness/ but to walk as ' children of 
light* in the ways of truej piety and holiness ; not 
delaying for one moment the care of our immorta? 
souls ! ' For the day is far spent, the night is at 
hand/ and there is no time to be lost. We have a 
great work to do; a work that requires and deserves 
our utmost care and diligence. If we perform it 
well, ^at will be our reward in heaven : for, 
' faithfiil is he that has promised/ And we may 
be assured, that if we are diligent and industrious 
in the work which God hath assigned to us in this' 
world, * our labour shall not be in vain in the 
Lord :* for, if ' we have our fruit unto holiness, 
our end will be everlasting life.' But if, instead 
6f * working out our salvation with fear and trem- 
bling/ Phil. ii. 12, that is, with the greatest card 
and circumspection, we are negligent and remiss 
in the service of our great Lord and Master JesuS 
Christ; if, instead of ' living soberly, righteously, 
and godlily, in this present world,' we lead vicious 
and wicked lives, and spend our days in sin and 
vanity ; miserable will be our condition both here 



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310 THE CJl«^r.rJlfPORTAN0E 

Wid hereafter. Po^* although God is a being of iu- 
finite goodness snd mercy, and is patient and long- 
suffering toirards sinners^ being * unwilling that 
any should perish, but that all should come to re« 
pesunce ;' yet we must remember, that he is also 
ioStutely just, and will assuredly indicate the ho- 
fionr of his laws. All sin and wickedness is ap 
jjKunination in his sight: ' He is of purer eyes 
than to behold iniquity; and if his wrath be kin- 
dled, yea but a little/ what will become of the 
^cked and ungodly? Nothing but, a sincere re- 
pentance^ and amendment of life, will be suffi- 
cient to secure them from the vengeance which he 
hath threatened to pour down upon all obstinate 

iand rebellious sinners : and true repentance will 
most undoubtedly avert his anger. He hath . de- 
i dared himself to be a ' God merciful and gracious, 

( forgiving iniquity, trsmsgression, and sin ;* and 

hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that, 
j with hearty repentance and true faith, turn unto 

t him. < He hath no pleasure in the death of the 

; wicked, but that the wicked should turn from his 

I way and live.' In order to assure us of this his 

^ great love to mankind, and his desire to recon* 

i cilo us to himself, * He hath sent his Sou,' his only^ 

his beloved Son, ' into the world, to the end tha,t 
all that believe in him should not perish, but hav9 
everlasting life;' John iii. 16. 

It hath pleased God^ of his infinite goodness, to 
establish a most gracious covenant of mercy to 
mankind through the mediation of his own Son ; 
and the condition of his part of the covenant^ 
namely, the remission of sins, is always ready to 
be made good, if we fail not, on our part, of sincere 
i^pentance, and a thorough reformation of our 
^yea, Oar Saviour hath made a f ull^ perfect, and 



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OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 211 

sufficient Mcrifice, oblation, and satisfaction^ for 
the sins of the whole world. He hath suffered a 
cruel and ignominious death upon the cross for our 
sakes : and by his death and sufferings hath pur- 
chased this grace for us, t hat real repentance ^ and 
t he sincere endeavour of "perfect obedience. shalL 
be a ccepted instead of innocence: but, without 
this repentance, and reneweil endeavour of perfect 
obedience, we shall not be accepted upon any 
terms. The sacrifice which Christ offered upon 
the cross, although of infinite value, ^iX\ be of no 
avail to us, unless, in couforapty with his death 
and resurrection, we die unto sin, and rise again 
into newness of life. Nothing but a good life will 
entitle us to the favour and love of God ; and, 
-without his favour, ' we are of all creatures the 
most miserable/ Better had it been for 'us never 
to have been bom, than to have made God our ene- 
my by leading vicious and wicked lives. liCt it 
then, above all things, be our great. and constant 
endeavour to make him our friend, who is the best 
of beings, the sovereign good and happiness of all 
his creatures, and the fountain and foundation of 
all our comforts and enjoyments in this life, and of 
all our hopes and expectations in that which is to 
come. Let us make religion the great business of 
our lives ; and, while we have time and opportu,- 
nity, let^us prepare ourselves, by a life of virtue 
and righteousness, for that great account which we 
must ■ one day give. liCt not the pleasures and 
vanities of this world, which will shortly have an 
end, make us unmindful of the great and momen- 
tous concerns of eternity. O eternity ! how amaz- 
ing are the thoughts of it ! Who, that considers 
what it is to live for ever in a state of endless hap- 
piness or misery^ would not labour and strive with 

^ /^^ e€^ /C /< -^e^'^ 



/*/ 



312 THE GftBAT IMPORTANOE 

all his might to seeore the one and avoid th« 
(^er 1 Now, this only can be done by a good life : 
for ' without holiness no man shall see the Loid/ 
Heaven is prepared for those, and those only, who 
fear Grod, and live in a strict endeavonr to perform 
a perfect obedience to his will. ' There shall .in no- 
vise enter into that holy place any thing that de- 
iftleth, neither whatsoever worketh- abomination, 
or maketh a lie; bat they which are written in the 
Lamb's book of life.' And those only are the good 
and virtaous, who have kept themselves from the 
pollutions of this wicked worid, and have led a life 
of piety and renewed obedience toward God, and 
of love and charity towards their neighbours. To 
all othen, that blessed Lamb of God wifl declare 
* he knew them not ;' to ' the workers of iniquity,' 
even that merciful and compassionate Saviour will 
sAy, ' Depart from me/ Dreadful words! Whither 
must such wretched souls go, when they are bidden 
to depart frotn the Saviour of the wotld ! WhiOier, 
ifidibed, but to that dismal place of horror and ever- 
lasting misery ^prepared for the devil and his 
angels !' 

May God, of his infinite mercy, give all of us 
grace to see amd fi»Uoir Om things that belong to 
our everlasting peace ' in this tint day,' lest they 
be hidden from our eyes, and all opportunities of 
reconciling ourselves to our offended God be for 
ever lost and gone ! May every one of us be^j^er- 
suaded to heaxken to the advice of Solomon! 
* Fear God, and keep his commandments^ for this 
is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring 
every work into judgment, and evexy seciet thing, 
whether it be good, or whether it be evil j' Ecdes. 
xii. 13, 14.~And may we always keep in remem- 
brance that merciful caution of our blessed Iiord 



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OF A RELIGIOUS UF£. 218 

and Sayionr; * Watch^ therefore^ for ye know nei- 
ther the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man 
Cometh ;' Matt. xxv. 15. 

A PRAYER. 

O MOST glorious Lord God, and merdful Father 
in Christ Jesus> who hast prepared for them that 
love thee such good things as pass man's under- 
standing, and hast promised to give eternal life to 
them who, by patient continuance in well-doing, 
seek for gloiy, and honour, and immortality ; give 
me, I most humbly beseech thee, a fiim and un- ' 
shsJie'h faith in all thy promises ; that, being fully 
persuaded of those important truths which thou 
hast revealed to us in the gospel, I may make it 
the principal care and ooncem of my whole life to 
please and obey thee in all things ! And, that I 
may obtain those things which Uiou dost promise, 
make me to love that which thou dost command ; 
and grant, that, by the assistance of thy Holy 
S9pirit, I may be enabled to persevere in the prac* 
tice of a holy life, even to the Ust moment of my 
days! 

' Let the hopes and expectations of that unspeak- 
able happiness berealter, which thou hast prepared 
for those who live in obedienee to thy eoremand* 
ments, enable me to pass through this vale of tears 
and miseiy with cheeifqlneM and submission to 
thy blessed will, and to bear with patience what* 
ever troubles thou, in thy great wisdom, shall aee 
fit to lay upon me. 

O Lord I give^ me a heart nused above the vaiii-^ 
ties and entieefac n t s of this world, and firee from 
all its pollutions and defilements. Fix my thaug|ila« 
mj bopWy 9Skd my 6mm, npon bca;ven and hea^ 

• 

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214 A MORNING PRAYER 

venly things; that, having always in view the 
CTown of glory which thou hast promised to thy 
faithful servants, I may press toward the mark for 
the prise of the high calling of Grod in Christ Jesus ; 
and, being strengthened by thy grace, and sup- 
ported by thy Holy Spirit, I may run with patience 
the race which thou hast set before us; that, when 
the great day of retribution shall come, I may look 
up to my most merciful Judge with joy and com' 
fort, and may hear those ravishing words pro- 
nounced unto me, ' Well done, thou good and 
faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy 
Lord.' tyrant this, O merciful Father, through the 
alone merits, and for the sake of my eternal advo-' 
cate and mediator, Jesus Christ. Amen. 



A MORNING PRAYER 

FOR A FAMILY. 

O MOST gracious God, and kind Father, m all 
humility of soul and body we present ourselves 
before the throne of thy majesty and glory, acknow- 
ledging that we are thy dependent creatures, 'and 
that ^m thy bountifbl hand we have received 
many and exceeding great blessings. 

By thee we wero wonderfully made; by thy 
power we have ever since been' preserved; and it 
is owing to thy great mercy and goodness that we 
have not been cut off in the midst of our sins, bat 
that thou hast been patient and long-sufiering to- 
ward us, wid hast' given us this opportunity of 
ooming into thy pnaence to renew tmr praises and 
admowledgments to thy divine Majesty* O Lord, 
thy compaaaio& fails not. By thee we have been 



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FOR A FAlflLY. 215 

pfMerved the 'night past, and to thy goodneu ve 
ascribe it, that we are brought in health and sale^ 
to the beginning of this day. 

Accept, we hombly pray thee, of oar unfeigned 
thanks for all the mercies and blessings which thou 
hast been pleased to bestow upon us ; and pardon, 
we beseech thee, for the sake of thy Son Christ 
Jesos, OUT great nnworthiness of what then hast 
done ferns. Give us such a sense of thy infinite 
love and kindness, as may engage us more and 
more to love and obey thee, and make us afraid of 
every thing that may be displeasing in thy sight. 

O Lord! vouchsafe us such a measure of thy 
grace and Holy Spirit, as may defend us against 
the snares and temptations of this wicked world, 
and enable us to overcome all our corrupt and sin- 
ful desires. Give us a true sense of the inestimable 
value of our souls, that we may make it the chief 
concern of our lives to work out our salvation with 
the greatest care and diligence, and to secure an 
interest in thy favour, which is better than life it^ 
self. 

Withdraw our minds from die love of this world, 
and place them upon heaven and heavenly things. 
Give us grace to use the enjoyments which- thou 
art pleased to bestow upon us, with temperance, 
sobriety, and moderation; with an entire trust and 
dependence on thy fatherly care and good provi- 
dence, and with> perfect submission to thy blessed 
will in all things. 

O Lord! root out of our hearts ^all pride and 
envy ; all hataed, malice, and ill-will. Put away 
from us all eensoriousness and uneharitableness, 
all lyitag and slandering, and whatever else is con- 
tiaty to a truly Chriatiaa spirit: and endue us, we 



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216 A MORNING PRAYER 

most humbly pray thee, vith that 

humility which is in thy sight of so groat a value, 

and with all those holy and Chnstiaxi dispositioiia 

which thou lovest and delightest in. 

Instruct us in all the particulars of our duty 
which we owe to thee, our neighbour, and ounelvef . 
Guide us by thy right hand, and conduct us by thy 
good Spirit, through all the business and aGBsin of 
this life. Teach us to act with faithfulness and 
honesty in every thing that we undertake ; and g:ive 
us such a dread of thy'displeasure, and such a senae 
of thy continual presence with us, as may guard 
UA, by thy grace, agaiait all the temptations of the 
world, the flesh, and the deviL 

[The foUowmg prnfagnqth it iabe omitted om a 
Suneh^memingy and Oai whickfMowtU ma»be 
9f»^ iiUfead thereof,'] 

Be with us, O Lord, this day, wherever we go, 
and in whatsoever we do. Presewe us from the 
dangers [of evil compa^iy ; from the deeeitfahuas 
oC our own hearto *, and more espedally htm th«ae 
sins that are most apt to betray and ensnare ua. 
Let thy blessing aAcompany all our honest la- 
bouts; and vDuehsafe oa suoh a measure of healtli, 
ft^d other temporal blessings, as thou seest beat 
and most fitUnip ^^^ ^* ^® deairo, O. Xiovd, la 
leave ourselves, and all our eoacema, in tfaiae 
hands, humbly beseeehing thee to take na, aad all 
that belong to us, under the protection of tiiy good 
providence ; and so to bless, diredi, and guide us 
in this life, that we may at last obtain, that greatest 
of all blessings, the eternal salvation of our iminov- 
tal aouls, through the merits, andfor the sake, of 
thy dear Son, and our alone Savioor, Jeans Christ, 
for whon emr souls adoie and praise thy glofieai 



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FOR A FAMILY. 217 

name,- and m whole most holy words we sum up 
our own and the wants of all mankind, saying, 
' Onr Father/ &c. 

[^ThefoUowing paragraph is to be tued on a Sun^ 
da§f morning instead of the foregoing one.] 

Dispose onr hearts, O Lord, we hmnbly beseech 
'thee, to a serious attendance apon thee in all holy 
duties. Make ns duly mindfal of all thy sacred 
institutions, and grant that we may never so far 
forget the interest of our souls, as to neglect the 
religious observance of the Christian Sabbath. 
And as thou hast brought us to the beginning of 
this sacred day, so be thou graciously pleased to 
take us into thy protection, and to assist us in a 
right dischai^ of the duties of it Withdraw our 
nunds from the care, and business, and pleasure 
of tiiis life, which will shortly have an end, that 
we may more earnestly attend upon the great con- 
eem of that far better life, which is to last for 
evermore. Grive us awful thoughts of thy great Ma- 
jesty» and a lively sense of our own wants ; that 
our prayers and praises, and ail our services, may 
be oJBTered up in such a serious and devout manner, 
as may renderthem acceptable in thy sight. Make 
«s attentive to thy holy word, and to all the good 
instructions that shall this day be given us ; and 
grant that we may not rest in mere outward per- 
formances, but, by a right use of thy holy ordi- 
nances, may grow in grace, and become every day 
better Christians, and so improve in all virtuous 
and godly living, that, when this short life shall 
have an end, we may dwell with thee in life ever- 
lasting, through the merits of thy sta, and* our 
alone Saviour, Jesua Chriat: for whom our souls 
Ueaa and praise thee, and in whos^.most holy 
L 



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Sie AN STBKnr G peayer 

voids we fom vp our vmn, and the wiata •< aU 
muJaad, saying, ' Out Fatkar/ &e. 

AN EVENING PRAYER 

FOR A FAMILY. 

O MOST mexcifnl and gracioas Loxd Grod! the 
creator, preserver, and governor of the vorld! 
Thou art infinite in mercy and goodness ts all that 
call upon thee faithfully ; and hast promised, that 
when two or three are gathered together in thy 
name, thou wilt be in the midst of them* Look 
down, we humbly beseech thee, upon us thy un- 
worthy cieatares, who are here assembled before 
thee, acknowledging that thou art a God greatly 
to be feared for thy power and justice, greatly to 
be beloved for thy infinite perfections and good- 
ness, and greatly to be praised foi thy bounty axul 
merciful kindness. But as for ourselves, we con^ 
fess, O Lord, that we are vile and sinful cieatuies; 
that we have, in many things, acted contraiy to 
thy most holy will, and have neither loved (hesi, 
f eaied thee, nor obeyed thee, as we ought to have 
done* Lord ! if thou shcmldst deal with us as 
we have deserved, we could expect nothing firam 
thee but the severitiea of thy just wrat]^ and dis- 
pleasure. 

But, O gracious Father, who deUghtest not in the 
deaAb of a sinner, look down upon us, we beseech 
thAB^ in thy Son Christ lesus ^ and, for the sake of 
his mentoiious death and sufferings, pardon our 
many and great transgressions of thy holy lawa; 
and grant that we may amend whatever we hsre 
done amiss, «q4 Ipi tihe time to eome may ba maie 



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FOR A FAMILY. 219 

eareful to plsase tlite^ and mora nneenly devoied 
to thy servioe and obedience. 

Convince us thoToiig]ily> O Lord> oftlie great 
folljand danger of tin ; and make na ao afraid of 
offending thee, that we may abstain from all ap- 
pearanee of evil, and do nothing but what ia pleas- 
ing in thy sight. Let the interest of oor immortal 
sools be oar chief care and concern ; and grant that 
we may live as becomeatbe senrantsof Christ, deny- 
ing all nngodliness and worldly Itfsts, and living 
righteoasly, soberly, and godlily, in this present 
world. 

' But, as without thee we are not aMe to please 
thee, grant us the assistance of thy grace and Holy 
Spirit, that we may pass through all the tempta- 
tions of this world with peace, and innocence, and 
eafety ; and enable us to bear up, with courage md 
, perseverance, against all the assaults of our great 
adversary the devil, who is daily lying ia wait to 
destroy us. 

Safer uanot, O merciful Qod, to be led away by 
the vain and foolish customs of thia world, nor ae> 
docad from our duty by the company and example 
of the wicked and ungodly; but grant that we mny 
make thy laws the rule of all our adaens, andlahh- 
fuHy discharge our duty hi the esveral stations 
whe ieiu thy providence is pieaaed to plaea ua. 

Make us duly mindful that thou art pusinl 
«v«ty where, andpsivy to our meat secret thoughts : 
that we may never dare to do any thing but what 
thou approvest, and of which we may not fear to 
pve aa aooonnt at the great and tenciUe day <d the 
liecd Jesus. O lit and prepare us for |that solflaBn 
tone by a vhrtueuaand holy Ufe! that when weehall 
appear befomtiie great Judge of all the werid^ we 



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7S0 AK ETBNING PRAYER 

may be foand in the nunber of those huppy souk 
whom he shall then pronowce blessed. 

Extend thy mercy, God, to all mankind, and 
bring them to the light and knowledge and practice 
of thy laws. 

Remove, we humbly beseech thee, fdl errors and 
oorniptions, all divisions and dissensicms, firom 
every communion of Christians ; and grant th^ 
the lives of those who profess themselves the dis- 
ciples of Christ may be holy and exemplary, and 
such as are conformable to the gospel of our blessed 
Saviour. 

Reform all things that are amiss in these king- 
doms. Root out from amoi^; us all irreligion ami 
profaneness, all uncharitableness and animosities. 
Pardon our great and crying sins ; avert the evils 
that we have deserved ; continue the light of thj 
glorious gospel among us *, and ghre us sU grace to 
turn from tht evil of oar ways unto thee the Lord 
our God! 

Bless our sovereign lord the king, and «ll that 
are in authority under him, both in church and 
state. Make each of them, in their several places 
and stations, useful and serviceable to thy glory, 
and the good and welfare of this church and nation. 

And, O thou, who art the Father of mercies, and 
God of all consolation, look down with pity and 
compassion upon all thy afllicted servants every 
where; give them courage and patience, comfort 
and support; and, in thy good time, a joyful de- 
liverance out of all their troubles. 

Send down thy blessings, spiritual and temporal, 
upon all our friends and relations. Do good unto 
thoee that have at anytime done or wished us 
ovil^ and vouchsafe to every one of us, and to all 



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FOR A FAMILYv 221 

Christians^ whatever thoa knowest to be best for 
onr temporal and eternal welfare. 

And now^ O Lord> we desire, with all humility 
of sonl and body, to adore thy incomprehensible 
Miyesty, and to praise thy great and glorioos name, 
for all thy manifold mercies vouchsafed to us and 
all mankind; but, above all, for thy astonishing 
love in reconciling the world unto thyself by the 
death and sufferings of thy dear Son. 

We bless thee for our creation and preservation ; 
lor our health, strength, peace, and safety; for the 
comforts and conveniences of this life, and the 
hopes and expectations of a far better, through thy 
tender mercies in Christ Jesus. 

O Lord, imprint in our hearts such a deep sense 
of thy mercies, that we may shew forth thy praises 
not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving 
up ourselves to thy service, and by walking before 
thee in holiness and righteousness all the days oi 
our lives. 

We confess, O Lord, that we are unworthy of 
die least of all thy favours; but, in confidence of 
thy infinite mercy and goodness> we do in great 
humility recommend ourselves, our souls and bo* 
dies, and all that belong to us, to thy fatheriy ctM 
and good providence; humbly beseeching thee, 
who ait OUT only safety and defence, to take us this 
night under thy almighty protection, and to give 
thy holy angels charge over us, that no evil eOM* 
neartohurtus. 

Refresh our bodies with quiet rest and sleep, and 
our souls with the cotef orte of thy Holy Spirit : and 
when thou shalt think fit to take us out of this world, 
give us everiasting rest and peace in thy eternal 
kingdom^ through the merits, and for the sake> of 
our blessed Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ, 



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323 A MOBNIVra PRAYER 

wlioluilli taught us, when we pray, to «ay^ « 0« 

Father/ &c. 

A MORNING PRAYER 

FOR A PERSON IN PRIVATE, 

O MOSTpneat^ mostmighty^ and mostgloriow Uud 
God ! look down from the habitation of thy holiaeaa 
upon mey thy imworthy cieatiue, who am oome 
into thy presence to adore thy mcomprehenaible 
Miyesty* and to present before thee the moining 
mCTJftfft of my nnfeigned praises, for the many 
and undeserved mercies thou hast bestowed upon 
me* 

Lord, I acknowledge, that to thee of right be- 
kmg eternal honour, glory, praise, and adoration ; 
for thou art the sovereign Lord of heaven and earth, 
by whom all thixu^ w«re made, and by whose mr 
finite power and goodness they are preserved aa4 
kept in being* 

Blessed be thy unspeakable goodnsas, which hadi 
advanced me to such a degree of being, that I am 
' in] some meaann capable to know thee, to love 
thee, to serve thee, and to obey thee. 

Blessed be thy name, O Lord, that I waa hom 
of Christian parents, and early dedicated to tliee 
by baptism; that by thy grace and goodness I have 
been preserred to this moment ; and that I have in 
any measure escaped the pollutions of this wickod 
world. 

1 bless thee, likewise, Lord, for all thy tem- 
poral mercies, and in particular for the refresh* 
moots of the night past : for protecting me &om all 
evil accidents, and for raising me up in heaUh and 
safety to pcalsa thy goodnftss, 



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FOR A P8RS0K IN PRIVATE. 33S 

Paid(m> O mott gndoiu Qod, all the vnworiby 
returns I have made for thy exceeding kindaen 
aad mercy; and Touchsafe me such a sense of thy 
infinite Iove> as may iaspive me with more vigo- 
rous and hearty endeavours to serve thee for the 
tnne to come. 

O Lord, I adnowledge that I am a weak aii4 
finU creauue, and that without thy help I am not 
able to bear np against the trials and temptations 
of this woild. But since thou hast promised to 
giv» thy Holy Spirit to them that ask it» I im 
emboldened to implore its divine assistance to 
etrmgthen my weakness, to help my infirmities, 
and so to fortify my mind, that I may not b« 
templed above what J am able to bear, nor sedused 
from my duty to thee, by the deceitfol eaticemenbi 
of the world, the flesh, or the devil. • 

Root out of my keait, O God, all pride and vmib- 
glory, all bitterness, and unchariiabLeness, all envy > 
hatred, and malice ; and sofbr me not to be led 
away by any of the foolish customs and false 
wavims of this world. And, O merciful Father, 
be thou pleased, of thy great goodness, to endue 
me with that wisdom which is from above, wluch 
is first pure, and then peaceable; with that meek- 
ness and humility, which is in thy sight (tf so great 
price; aad with that truly Christian temper and 
dieposilion, which thon lovest and delightest iiw 

iMrd, sanctify unto aae all thy fathedy dispell 
sations, and let every thing thou shalt think fit to 
send me prove a blessing and advantage to ray 
soul. Give me giaee to be entirely submissive 
aad contented under all the afflictions^ trials, and 
disappointments, which thy wisdom shall judge 
piaper,in eoNier to bring me to thyself ; and grant, 
that by evexy adversity that shall b^all me^ I may 



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224 A MORKING PRAYER 

be weaned from this world, and more closely united 

unto thee. 

Make me always mindful of my own fraaltyy of 
the -shortness iand uncertainty of this life, and of 
the eternity of the next. Give me grace so to livev 
as I shall wish I had done when I come to die; 
Let not sickness or death ever surprise me nn- 
awates, or find me in a state unprepared; bul 
grant that I may finish the great work which thou 
hast given me to do> before the night cometh wheB 
no man can woric. O let me live in such a con- 
stant prepantion for my latter end, that how sud- 
denly soever thou shalt be pleased to take me out 
of this world> I may be found ready for my great 
account, through the merits of my blessed Saviour 
and Redeemer, Jesus Christ. 

IThe following paragraph ia tabe ovUited <m a 
Simdagf morning, and that which foUowt 4t «mr be 
wed instead thereof, '\ 

Be with me, O Lord, this day in all traces and 
upon all occasions. Direct and guide, sanctify and 
pieserve me. Keep me both outwardly in my body 
and inwardly in my sonl. Let thy blessing accom- 
pany all my honest designs and undertakings; 
and grant that I may undertake liothiag but what 
is agreeaWe to thy blessed wiU. Give onto me, 
and all that belong to me, such a measure of 
health, and other temporal blessings, as thou 
seest best and most fitting for us : but, above all 
things, give us thy grace and favour, that our lives 
may be holy, our deaths comfortable, and our eter^ 
nal state happy and glorious with thee, through the 
merits of thy Son and our only Saviour, -Jesos 
Christ the righteous ; in whose most holy words I 
stm up my own, and the wants of all mankind, 
•saying, ' Our Father,' &c. 



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FOR A PBRSON IN FBITATB. 22S 

. iTke fMowmg-pamgn^h majf heated dm tf Shm- 
dagf momimg imtaad cf the preeBdmg otte,} 

Accept^ I beMMh tliee, O most gpnwWiit God^ 
|»y beuty desirM to glorify thee ia an bipedal 
Quuuier on this day, whieh thou hast pecafiaiiy 
■anetiied lor tfay wonhip and aertiee. 

I bless thy holy name, O Loid, ¥rh0, by thy al- 
augb^ power, madest the heavens and the earthy 
and th. that therein isy and preservest and govern- 
est all that thou hast made. 

I bless thee, O Lord, who madest man after 
thine own imager enduing him with understand- 
ing, reason, and liber^; and maldng him capable 
of knowing, of loving, and of enjoying thee, his 
Creator. 

Above allx I bless and mi^gnily thy holy name, 
Lord, heavenly Father, that thou hast given 
thiaaoidy Sen, Jt«is€hrist, for the redemption of 
WMHi^iltd \ that he took our nature upon him ; that 
he died lor our siikes; that he is risen again from 
the dead : that he ascended into heaven, and that 
he these stttetb at thy right band, t» make inter- 
cewioil fer as^ that be hath m«de known to us 
the wiry to etenial life, giving us his word fer .our 
direction, and his JHoly Spiriik for our guide and 



B k se sd be thy holy name, that tikou hast ap- 
poMited tUe darf , not only for a rest from our or* 
dinaiy kdbeve and employments, bat ehieily for a 
paipetuA eenBttcmefatiott) of diose thy favours, 
wmk in gtving us stated opportunities for fhy wor- 
ship and serviee> and for the care of our immortal 
seids. 

My sold desfares to bless thee, that thou hast 
r me a partaker el aU these inestimable advan- 

L2 

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226 AN EVENING PRAYEH 

O Lom!^ prepare my heart for attending upon 
thee in thy hoase> and afford me thy gracions as- 
sistance in all the parts of thy service. 
- Let thy word make deep and lasting impxessionff 
on me. Help me diligently to improve all oppor- 
tunities that shall be afforded me this dnj, whether 
public or private, to the glory of thy great name, 
and the benefit and comfort of my soul, through 
Jesus Christ my Saviour. Amen. 



AN EVENING PRAYER 

FOR A PERSON IN PRIVATE. 

Most great and mighty God! thou art the so- 
vereign Lord of heaven and earth> the creator, the 
preserver, and governor of all things ; thou dwell- 
est in that light which no mortal eye can approach, 
and yet disdainest not to behold the children of 
men. Look down, I beseech thee, upon me thy 
unworthy creature, who am come into thy presence, 
adoring thy majesty, and acknowledging that my 
dependence is wholly upon thee, who art the au- 
thor of my being, and the foundation of all my 
hopes, both here and hereafter. 

O Lord, I confess that I am a weak aad f^iil 
creature: my nature is corrupt, and mioendiiy 
prone to offend thee. I find a law in 07 mealbeif 
warring against the law in my mind; which, Ioob- 
fess with sorrow, hath too often prevailed against 
me. The pleasures aad profits of the wodd aie 
too apt to engage my affections, and to make me 
cold and remiss in the great and important work of 
my salvation. I have been guilty of manifold neg- 
lects and omissions of my duty, towards thee, ami 
have not served thee with that purity of ii^tMi* 



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FOR A PBRSON IK PRIVATE. ^7 

tKon, 'with that imcerity of hearty with that fer- 
vency of 8pirit> with that zeal for thy glory^ with 
that care> and diligence^ and coii8tan6y> that I 
ought to have done^ 

O Lord^ if thou shonldst be extreme to mark 
what is done amiss, if thou shouldst [ca]l me to a 
strict account for my life past, what could J say 
unto thee ; or how should I be s^le to stand in thy 
sight'? If thou shouldst deal with me as I have 
deserved, I could expect nothing from thee but the 
aererities of thy wrath and displeasure : but, O 
gracious Father, thou hast revealed thyself to the 
•o<ks ol men, as a God merciful and gracious, for- 
giving the transgressions and iniquities of the re* 
peatant sinner : remember, then, I beseech thee, 
thy tender mercies, which have been ever of old; 
■amd for the sake and merits of my blessed Saviour, 
forgive, I humbly pray thee, all the sins and vani- 
ties, the lollies and indiscretions, of my life past. 
Ol reserve not my sins to be punished in the day 
of thy wrath and displeasure, but blot them out 
ciihf remembrance, that they may never rise up 
to my confnsion here, nor to my condemnation 
hereafter. 

O ! enable me> by the assistance of thy grace, to 
reform whatever thou seest amiss in the temper 
and disposition of my mind, or in any of the actions 
ol my life; that I may love thee more, and serve 
thee better, and do thy will with greater care and 
diligence than I have yet done. 

O* Lovd ! keep up in my mind a lively sense of 
my duty towards thee, and of that great account 
-which I must one day give^ Sofier me not, I be- 
seech thee> to fall into a careless and unthinking 
state, nor to be unmindful of that one thing need- 
fol, the lalvalion of mj immortal 80ul» Make n^e 



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228 AV XTBNnrG PRAVSR 

•o senile of tluwe dicadM thieatenings wjudi 
thou bast denounced sgainst siannH, thatwiba^ 
ever else I leave nndone, I may make it mj- '' hM 
care and concern to secure an iatexeat In thy fiu 
vonr. And, O meicifol Father^ be Aou pleaaad, 
of thy great goodaesa, so to arnkt my veak aad 
feeble endeavoun, that I may not be aaanocaBfini 
in a matter of such vast concern. 

Root out of my heart, O God, by the poweefiil 
efficacy of thy gxace, all smf ul and com^ afiec- 
tions. Wean me firom the vaaitiea aad pleaaaias 
of this world, and give me a full oonvictioa of d&e 
uncertainty and insufficiency of all thinga here b^ 
low. O Uet me never seek for zest and hafypiiiMi 
in the enjoyments of this life ; but grant that Imiy 
daily aspire after that eternal and nnehaageabiie 
state of happiness hereafter, which thon hast pic- 
served for thy faithful servanU ; and Co ^^ich I be. 
eeech thee, of thy in&iite love aad mei«y,te bring 
me, through die merits, az^d for the sake of thy dear 
Son, Jeeus Christ our Lord. 

Extend thy mercy, O Gk>d, to all mankind. la 
a more particular manner, I pray thee to be graeiovs 
to these sinful nations to which I belong ; to paidoa 
our great end crying sins ; to avert the jadgment 
which we have most justly deserved; and to put 
away from us the spirit of profaaeaeis and iafi- 
delity, of mafice and nacharkid>lenes8^ Aat then 
mayest delight to dwell amongst as, aad be oar 
Ood, and we thy people. 

Bless and preserve our sovereign Imd King 
George, and grant that all who asa in avthoaly 
under him may faithfully endeavour to piomote 
thy glory, and the good and welfare of this ehaieh 
and nation. 
• Look with pity and compassion apoa aU thy af- 



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FOR A PEBSON IN PBIVATE. 229 

fliefeed mtvsbU; hp % Father to the fatheileM; 
Ikeel the sick; Buppljr the vants of the poor and 
needy; and grant that "whattoerer is wanting of 
oatwaid comiartM to any one, may be abundantly 
made op by the inward consolations of thy Holy 
Spirit 

Blesf ill my friends and relations^ especially 
— ^-— ; reward all who have done me good, and 
foigiye all who have done or wished me evil ; and 
veachs^e to eveiy one ol n», from the highest to 
tbe lowest, whaterer in thy gfeat wisdom thon 
teewest to be needlnl hoik for onr leuls and 



And now, O most mercifal Father, from an 
kimble sense of thy great goodness, I adore and 
praise thy glorioes name, for all the manifaatations 
ef thy love and kindness yenehsafed unto me. I 
Mess thee fer mj being, for my reaaon, and all the 
endowments and faculties of my soul and body; 
for my heakfa, friends, food, and raiment, and all 
the other comforts and conveniences I enjoy ; for 
thy eentinuBil care and watchful providenoe over 
BM through the whole course ef my life : and, par- 
tienlariy, for the preservation and proteetioa of 
me the day past. 

Give me grace, I beseedi thee, to make a right 
improvement of all thy blessings; and be thou 
graciously pleased to take me, and all that belong 
to me, this night, under the care and piotectlon of 
dky fatherly providence. «Oive thy holy angels 
charge over us ; and grant us such refreshment of 
fOul and body as may enable us cheerfully to go 
through the duties of that station wherein thou 
hast placed us. And when thou shalt be pleased 
to call us out of this world, O I let ua be found in 
the nmnlber ef thy laitfafel sernato> thiough the 



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330 A MORNmO PRAYER 

merito of our blessed Saviour «nd Redeemet^ Jesui 
Christ : for tirhom my soul doth bless and praiM 
thee> and in whose most holy words I sum up sdl 
our want8> saying, ' Onr Fathet/ &c. 

A PRAYER WHICH MAY BE ADDED TO THE 
DAILY EVENING PRAYER ON TH£ LORD'S 
DAY. 

I AGAIN return my most hnmble and hearty thanks 
to thee, O Lord my God, for the special blessings 
of this thy sacred day ; that I have been admitted 
to the great privilege of joining with thy faithful 
people, in their assemblies for public worship^ to 
offer up my praises and prayers to thy divia« 
Miyesty, in the name of our blessed Redeemer; to 
hear thy holy word read and preached by the 
ministers of thy gospel ^ and fhat I have had 
farther opportunities for employing myself mom 
privately in thy worship and the care of my im*> 
mortal souK 

I earnestly beseech thee, O Lord, to pardon all 
the wanderings and disorders of my mind> and 
whatsoever else thoa haat seen amiss in my at* 
tendance upon thee ; and graciously to accept ^y 
ainceie, though weak, endeavours to serve thee^ 

Cause thy word, which I have heard or read, to 
abide in my heart> and to bring forth the £raits of 
a holy and religions life. 

Help me, by the use of all the means of grace 
and salvation, to grow in grace> and in the know- 
•ledge of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, fitting 
m« more and more for seeing and enjoying thee, 
my Ood, and my blessed Redeemer^ in the life to 
come : and grant, when I shall cease to praise and 
aerve thee with thy sainu on earthy that I may 



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FOR A YOUNG PERSON. 281 

eoantinue to be so employed with the blessed spi- 
rits in heaven. 

• I heartily beg the same blessings for all my 
lellow-christians^ recommending them and myself 
to thee my heavenly Father, in the words, and 
through the intercession, of lesns Christ thy Son, 
our only Mediator and Advocate. ' Our Father,' 
&e. 

A MORNING PRAYER 

FOR A YOUNG PERSON. 

Lord, my heavenly Father, I humbly adore 
thee, as ihe maker and governor of the world, the 
author of my being, the preserver of my life, an4 
the giver of every good thing. 

I heartily thank thee for the comfortable rest 
which I have enjoyed the night past; that thou 
hast preserved me in safety, and raised me up in 
health. 

I bless thee for all thy goodness to me ever since 

1 came into the world, and especially for the ad- 
vantages thou hast given me, by the instruction 
and improvement of my mind in the knowledge of 
thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, my 
Lord. 

Grant, O good God ! that the sense of thy fa' 
vours may so deeply affect my heart, that I may 
shew forth my thankfulness in the whole course of 
my life. I am thine, O Lord, by creation, by re- 
demption, by my baptism and Christian profession, 
and by all the obligations which thou hast laid 
Upon me. 1 desire to be thine, also, by a willing 
dedication of myself to thee every day of my life, 
and by a constant and faithful endeavour to ap- 
prove myself to thee. 



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932 A ttOBNING PRAYSR 

I bcteedi tbee> m thy great mmKj, ihioo^ tiM 
mediation of my blessed Redeemer, to paidoA all 
my p»t elEBQoee, and to enable me, by tby grace, 
to diseem and to amend wbatsoever ie anttse ia m»» 

Help me ever to remember the Cbyietmn pdnoi* 
pies ^Uch I baTO learned, and tbe pioua inalnM* 
tioBi which have been given me; and never to 
depart from the good way in which I have been 
taught to walk. 

Incline my heart to all that ia good. Grant that 
I may be modest and humble in my carriage and 
behaviour; chaste and pure in* all my thoughu, 
words, and actions; true and just in all my dea]^ 
ings; respectful and obedient to my superiors; in* 
nocent and inoffensive in my whole conversation; 
faithful and diligent in the ^charge of all the dn* 
ties of that state and condition of life wherein thou 
hast placed me; and teach me to fear and love 
thee, my God, above all things, and to do to aU 
others as I would they should do unto me. 
. Make me perfectly contented with my condition, 
and thankful to thee, who hast given me all things 
necessa r y for life and godliness. Let thy good 
providence always take care of me, and let me 
never place my trust and confidence in any thing 
but thee. 

. Take me, I beseech thee, into thy protectioB 
this day; keep me, if it be thy good will, in health 
and safety. Preserve me from the vanity ef my 
own heart, and from the temptations of the worl^ 
the flesh, and the deviL Help me (throagh a sewe 
ef thy constant presence with me, and of the jie- 
coont I am to give unto thee) so to govern all my 
thonghto, words, and actions, that I may xefleot 
iq^on then with satisfaction at the elese ef Oiis 



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FOR A YOUKO PERSON. 233 

Let thy Ueflsing be upon every member of this 
fanUy» upon all my relations and friends^ upon all 
whom I ought and whom I desire to pray for. 

I humbly commit both myself and them to thee, 
O my God^ in the name of Jesus Christ our Sa- 
viouTy and in the words which he himself has 
taught me. ' Our Father/ &c. 

AN EVENING PRAYER 

FOR A YOUNG PERSON. 

Host gracious God, my heavenly Father, as I 
began, so I desire always to end the day, with 
blessing thy holy name, and imploring thy fevour^ 

Honour and worship, praise and thanksgiving> 
are dae to thee from every understanding and rea- 
sonable creature. I heartily bless thee, that I am 
in that number whom thou hast made to serve and 
love thee, and that thou hast moreover revealed 
thyself to me, by thy Son Jesus Christ my Re- 
deemer, and encouraged me to call upon thee in 
his name. 

I humbly thank thee for thy daily care of me, 
and particularly for that good providence which 
hath been over me the day past ; that thou hast 
preserved me from the many evils to which I am 
justly liable ; and hast bestowed upon me so many 
good things which I have not deserved; especially 
for whatsoever thou hast enabled me todo, which is 
acceptable in thy sight, and which I can reflect 
upon with satisfaction. 

I humbly bewail, O Lord, the great weakness and 
corruption of my nature, and the many errors and 
transgressions of my life. I humbly beg thy mer<;iy 
in the pardon of all my sins, through the mediation 



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I gjfi jj,j^«er;p«PtiadarlyofwliiUao- 

e / sBiy ^"^^laes «bum in me Uib day, either im 



me 
m? 



'''^[i^tf^ t^yg keep me k«mble, and woik in me 

P B^'^iLjivP^^*'^^ of all my sini; and lettlie 

t aM'"^^^^ ®^ ****™ ^^^^ excite me to a gfeater 

c itfjn^'j^tchfalness for the time to come. 

t e*** !^^ in me every good purpose and reao- 

Sff^^^lpTxatsoever part of my duty I know not, 

'"l^a teach me; and wherein I have done amias, 

^ mc to do ao no more. 

'"^va^me not, O Lord, at any time to myaelf, 
^r Ui the hands of my spiritual enemies. Pre- 
jl^ me from those circumstances that would 
pgove a snare or temptation to me. Let thy good 
spirit continually enlighten and sanctify my mind, 
tf fleeting and assisting me through the whole course 
at my life. 

Fill me with a sense of my constant and entire 
dependence upon thee, that I may always commit 
myself to thy care, and be otct satisfied with thy 
disposal of me. 

Teach me so to number my days, that I may 
apply my heart to true and heavenly wisdom. 
Help me to live in a daily preparation for my 
great ehange, keeping my conscioice void of of- 
fence, both towards thee and towards men : and 
grant that I may be always so employed, as I shall 
wish I had been when I come to die ; that when- 
soever thou shalt think fit to call me out of this 
world, I may readily and thankfully exchange it 
for abetter. 

Take me, I beseech thee, into thy giadous pro- 
tection this mght. Preserve me, if it be thy good 
^»>U, in health and safety; and grant me that rest 



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FOR A YOUNG PERSON. 335 

vhich may refresh my body, and dispoie me to 
•eire thee cheerfally, both in body and mind^ the 
ensuing day. 

I heartily desire the good of all mankind ; and 
pray unto thee for the purity, the peace, and the 
enlargement of thy holy church ; for thy direction 
and aMistance of all its governors and pastors, par- 
ticularly those under whose guidance I am placed ; 
for the welfare of my country ; for a blessing upon 
the kingp and all in authority under him; for the 
relief and comfort of all that are in affliction ; for 
all my friends and relations ; beseeching thee to 
hear and to accept me, and all that call upon thee, 
in the name of Jesus Christ, our only Lord and 
Saviour, who has taught me thus to pray : ' Our 
Father,' &c. 



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ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE, 



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TttB 

ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 



limODUOTIOV* 

Bow down your heads unto the dost, O ye iahM 
bitiBts of earth! be nlent and recei^pe^ with ve- 
Tcrence, inetniction firoxn on high. 

Wheraeoever the sun doth shine, w h eie s oefc t 
the wind doth blow, wheresoever there Is an ear 
to hear, and a mind to conceive; there let the 
precepts of life be made known, let the maxims of 
truth be honoured and obeyed. 

All things proceed from God. His power is un- 
bounded, his wisdom is from etemi^, and his good- 
ness endureth for ever. 

He sxtteth on his throne in the centre, and the 
breath of his mouth giveth life to the world. 

He toucheth the stars with his finger, and they 
run their course rejoicing. 

On the wings of the wind he walketh abroad, 
and perf oxmeth his will through all the regions of 
unlimited space. 

Order^ and grace, and beauty, spring from his 
hand. 

The voice of wisdom speaketh in all his works; 

but the human understanding cpmprehendeth it not. 

The shadow of knowledge passeth over the mind 



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240 THE ECONOMY 

of man as a dream ; he seeth as in the dark; he 
reasoneth, and is often deceived. 

But the wisdom of God is as the light of heaven; 
he reasoneth not; his mind is the fountain of truth. 

Justice and mercy wait before his throne; bene- 
volence and love enlighten his countenance for 
ever. 

Who is like unto the Lord in glory ? Who in 
power shall contend with the Almighty ? Hath he 
any equal in wisdom? Can any in goodness be 
compared unto him ? 

He it is, O man! who hath created thee: thy[ 
station on earth is fixed by his appointment : the } 
powers of thy mind are the gift of his goodness : 
the wonders of thy frame are the work of his hand . 

Hear then his voice, for it is gracious; and he ] 
that obeyeth, shall establish his soul in peace. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. m 



DUTIES THAT RELATE TO MAN CONSI- 
DERED AS AN INDIVIDUAL. 

COMSIDBEATION. 

Commune with thyself, O man! and consider 
wherefore thou wast made. 

Contemplate thy powersy thy waD.ti|> and thy con« 
nezions; so shalt thou discover the duties of life^ 
and be directed in all thy ways. 

Proceed not to speak or act, before thou hast 
weighed thy words, and examined the tendency of 
every step thon shalt take; so shall disgrace fly far 
from thee, and in thy house shall shame be a 
stranger; repentance shall not visit thee, nor soiw 
row dwell upon thy cheek. 

The thoughtless man bridleth not his tongue ; he 
cpeaketh at random, «nd is entangled in the foolish- 
ness of his own words. 

As dne that runneth in haste, and leapeth over a 
fence, may fall into a pit op the other side, which * 
- he doth not see ; so is the man that plungeth sud- 
denly into any action, before he hath considered 
the consequences thereof. 

Hearken therefore unto the voice of Considei^ 
atton ; her words axe the words of wisdom, and heir 
paths shall lead thee to truth and safety. 

MODESTY. 

Who art thon^ O man! that presumest on thine 
own wisdom? or why dost thou vannt thyself on 
thine oim acquizements ? 
M 



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^2 TRZ ECONOMY 

The first step towards being wise, is to know that 
thou art ignorant; and if thou wouldst not be 
esteemed foolish in the judgment of others, cast off 
the folly of being wise in thine own conceit. 

As a plain garment best adometh a beautiful 
woman, so a decent behaviour is the greatest orna- 
ment of wisdom. 

The speech of a modest man giveth lustre to 
truth, and the diffidence of his words absolveth his 
error. 

He relieth not on his <rwn wisdom; he wexgheth 
the counsels ct a friend, md reeeiveth the benefit 
thereof. 

He tumeth away his ear from his own praise, 
and believeth it not; he is the last in discovering 
his own perfections. 

Yet as a veil addeth to beauty, so are his virtues 
set off by the shade which his modesty easteth upon 
them. 

But behold the vain man, and observe the arro- 
gant : he clotheth himself in rich attire ; he walketh 
in the public street ; he easteth round his eyes, and 
courteth observation. 

He tosseth up his head, and overlooketh the 
poor ; he treateth his inferiors with insolence, and 
his superiors, in return look down on his pride and 
foUy with laughter. 

He despiseth the judgment of others ; he relietl^ 
on his own opinion, and is confounded. 

He is puffed up with the vanity of his imagin- 
ation : his delight is to hear and to speak of him- 
self all the day long. 

He swalloweth with greediness his own praise, 
and the flatterer in return eateth hun up. 



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OP HUMAN UI-B. ^ 

APPLICATION. 

Since the days that are past ave gone for ever, 
and those that are to come may not come to thee ; 
it behoveth thee> O man ! to employ the present time> 
withont regretting the loss of that which is past, or 
too much depending on that which is to come* 

This instant is thine; the next is in the womb of 
futority, and thou Imowest not what it may bring 
forth. 

Whatsoever thou resolvest to do, do it quickly. 
Defer not till the evening what the morning may ac- 
complish. 

Idleness is the parent of want and of pain; but 
the labour of virtue bringeth forth pleasure. 

The hand of diligence defeateth want ; prosperity 
and success are the industrious man's attendants. 

Who is he that hath acquired wealth, that hath 
risen to power, thiit hath clothed himself with ho* 
nour, that is spoken of in the city with praise, and 
that standeth before the king in his council? Even 
he that hath shut out idleness from his house ; and 
hath said unto Sloth, thou art mine enemy. 

He riseth up early, and liethdown late; he exer- 
dseth his mind with contemplation, and his body 
with action, and preserveth the health of both. 

The slothful man is a burden to himself; his hours 
hang heavy on his head; he loitereth about, and 
knoweth not what he would do. 

His days pass away like the shadow of a cloud, 
aod he leaveth behind him no mark for remem- 
brance. 

His body is diseased for want of exercise; he 
wisheth for action, but hath not power to move ; his 
mind is in darkness; his thoughts are confused; he 
loogeth for knowledge^ but hath no application. 



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S44 THE BCONOHY 

H« would eat of the almond, bat hateth the tnra- 
ble of breaking its shell. 

His house is in disorder, his servants axe waste- 
ful and riotous, and he runneth on towards ruin; 
he seeth it with his eyes, ]|e heareth it with hia eaka, 
he shaketh his head and wisheth, bat hath no reso- 
lution; till ruin cometh upon him like a whirlwiiid> 
and shame and repentance descend with him to the 
grave. 

EMULATION. 

If thy soul thirsteth for honour, if thy ear hath 
any pleasure in the voice of praise, raise thyself 
from the dust whereof thou art made, and exalt 
thy aim to something that is praiseworthy. 

The oak that now spreadeth its branches tcmards 
' the heavens, was once but an acorn in the bowels 
of the earth. 

Endeavour to be first in thy calling, whatever it 
be ; neither let any one go before thee in well 
doing; nevertheless, do not envy the merits of 
another; but improve thine own talents. 

Scorn also to depress thy competitor by any dis- 
honest or unworthy method ; strive to raise thys^ 
above him only by excelling him; so shall thy eon- 
test for superiority be crowned with honoor, if not 
with success. 

By a virtuous emulation, the spirit of a man is 
exalted within him; he panteth after fame, and 
r^oiceth as a racer to run his oouise. 

He riseth like the palm-tree in spite of oppns- 
sion ; and as an eagle in the firmament of heaven, 
be soaxeth aloft, and fixeth his eye upon the gloiiea 
of the son. 

The 6xamj[>le8 of eminent men aie ia 1 



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Ol^ HUMAN LIFE. 1S45 

by night, and his delight is to follow them all the 
day long. 

Ae fonneth great designs, he rejoiceth in the 
execution thereof, and his name goeth forth to the 
ends of the world. 

But the heart of the eiyious man is gall and bit- 
terness, his tongue spitteth venom; the success of 
bis neighbour breaketh his rest. 

He sitteth in his cell repining, and the good that 
happeneth to another, is to him an evil. 

Hatred and malice feed upon his heart, and there 
is no rest in him. 

He endeavours to depreciate those that excel him, 
and pnftteth an evil interpretation on all their do- 
ings. 

He lieth on the watch, and meditates mischief; 
but the detestation of man pursueth him, and he is 
4mished as a spider in his own web. 



Hear the words of Prudence, give heed unto 
her counsels, and store them in thine heart; her 
maxims are universal, and all the virtues lean 
■pen her; she is the guide and mistress of human 
life. 

' Fat a bridle on thy tongue : set a guard before 
thy lips, lest the words of thine own mouth destroy 
thy peace. 

. Let him that scoffeth at the lame, take care that 
he halt not himself: whosoever speaketh of an- 
other's failings with pleasure, shall hear of his own 
with Inttemess of heart. 

Of much speaking cometh repentance, but in si- 
lence is safely. 

A talkative man is a nuisance to society ; the ear 



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346 THE ECOKOmr 

is nek of his babblings the tonent of his words over- 
whehneth conyenadoii. 

Boast not of thjself, for it shall bEing con- 
tempt apon thee ; neither deride another^ for it is 
dangerous. 

A bitter jest is the poispn of friendship ; and he 
that cannot restrain his tongue, shall have trouble. 

Famish thyself with the proper accommodations 
belonging to thy condition; yet spend not to the 
utmost of what thou canst afford, that the provi- 
dence of thy youth may be a comfort to thy old 
age. 

Let thine own business engage thy attenlion; 
leave the care of the state to the govemors thereof. 

Let not thy recreations be expensive, lest the pain 
of purchasing them exceed the pleasure thou hast 
in their enjoyment. 

Neither let prosperity put out the eyes of cirenm- 
spection, nor abundance cut off the hands of fru- 
gality ; he that too much indulgeth in the super- 
fluities of life, shall live to lament the want of its 
necessaries. 

From the experience of others, do thou leam 
wisdom; and from their failings correct thine own 
faults. 

When thou hast proved a man to be honest, lock 
him up in thine heart as a treasure! regard him as 
a jewel of inestimable price. 

Refuse the favours of a mercenary man ; they will 
be a snare unto thee ; thou shalt never be quit of the 
obligation. 

Use not to-day what to-morrow may want; neither 
leave that to hazard which foresight may provide 
for, or care prevent. 

Yet expect not even from prudence infallible auc- 



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OP HUMAN LIFE. 247 

eeM; fox the day knoweth not what the night may 
bring forth. 

The fool is not always unfortunate^ nor the wise 
man always saccessful; yet never had a fool a tho^ 
rough enjoyment; never was a wise man wholly un- 
happy. 

FORTITUDE. 

Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, 
and injury, are more or less the certain lot of every 
man that cometh into the world. 

It behoveth thee, therefore, O child of calamity ! 
early to fortify thy mind with courage and patience, 
that thou mayest support, with a becoming resolu- 
tion, thy allotted portion of human evil. 

As the camel beareth labour, ai?d heat, and hun- 
ger, and thirst, through deserts of sand, and fainteth 
not; BO the fortitude of man shall sustain him 
through all perils. 

A man of a noble spirit disdaineth the malice of 
fortune ; greatness of soul is not to be cast down. 

He hath not suffered his happiness to depend on 
her smiles, and therefore with her frowns he shall 
not be dismayed. 

As a rock on the sea-shore he standeth firm, and 
the dashing of the waves disturbeth him not. 

He raiseth his head like a tower on a hill, and 
the arrows of fortune drop at his feet. 

In the instant of danger the courage of his heart 
Busuineth him; and the steadiness of his mind 
beareth him out. 

He meeteth the evils of life as a man that goeth 
forth into battle, and retumeth with victory in his 
hand. 
Undet the pxetsure of tnisfoftimes^ his calmness 



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248 THE SCOHOMT 



But the dastardly apait of a i 
tiajreth hiai to ahaiiie. 

jUftnadisaluikeAwitJialiiea;dL o£an> so ^km 
abadow of evil maketh him txeniUe. 

In the hoar of danger he ia embanaaaed and COD- 
firanded; in the day of nuafortmie he ainketh, and 
detpair orervhelneth hia aooL 

CONTENTMENT. 

Forget noc, O man! that thy atalioa oft earth 
la anxmited by the wisdom of the Eternal : who 
knoweth thy heart, who aeeth the vanity of all iky 
wishes, and who often, in mercy, denieth thy r«- 

Yet for all reasonable desires, for all honeaC en- 
deavours, bis benevolence hath established, in the 
nature of things, a probability of snceess. 

The TtneasineBs thoufeelest, the misfoitiiiiea thon 
bewailest, behold the root from whence they spring; 
even thine own folly, thine own pride, thine own 
distempered fancy. 

Murmur not therefore at the dispensations of 
Ood, but correct thine own heart: neither lay 
• -within thyself, if I had wealth, or power, orleitoie, 
I should be happy ; for luiow, they all bring to their 
several possessors their peculiar inoonvenienoea. 

The poor man seeth not the vexations md 
anxieties of the rich, he feeleth not the difficohiei 
and perplexities of power, neither knoweth he the 
wearisomenesa of leisaie; and therefore it is that 
he repineth at his own lot. 

But envy not the appearance of happiness in any 
nun, for thon kaoweit not hia secret gnefiit 



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OF HUMAK L1F£. 24d 

To be satisfied with a little is the greatest wis- 
dom -y and he that increaseth his riches, incfeasedi 
his cares ; but a contented mind is a hidden trea- 
sore, and troable lindeth it not. 

Yet if thou sufifereA not the allmrements of foiv 
tone to rob thee of justice, or temperance, or cha* 
rity, or modesty, even riches themselves shall not 
make thee unhappy. 

But hence shalt thou learn, that the cup of feli- 
ci^, pure and unmixed, is by no maaoB a draught 
for mortal man. 

Virtue is the race which God hath 4Bet him to 
run, and happiness the goal, which none can arrive 
at till he hath ^nished his course, and received his 
crown in the mansions of eternity. 

TEMPERANCE. 

The nearest approach thou canst make to hap- 
piness on this side the grave, b to enjoy ^m 
heaven understanding and health. 

These I>le8sing8 if thou possessest, and wouldst 
preserve to old age, avoid the allurements of Vo- 
luptuousness, and fly from her temptation. 

When she spreadeth her delicacies on the board, 
when her wine sparkleth in the cup, when she 
smUeth upon thee, and persuadeth thee to be joy- 
ful and happy; thai is the hour of danger, then 
let Reason stand firmly on her guard. 

For if thou hearkenest unto the words of her ad- 
versary, thou art deceived and betrayed. 

The joy which she promiseth, changeth to mad- 
ness, and her enjoyments lead on to diseases and 
death. 

Look round her board ; cast thine eyes upon her 
guests, and observe those who have been allured 
by her smiles, who have listened to her ten^tatK 
M2 

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250 THE BCOKOMT 

Am dieynot iaei«re or blort«dt ue tliey w>t 
riddyf aie they not »piritlci»? 

Theb »hwt hrtnjcs of jolUly and liot are followed 
by tedionB dajs of pain and d^iectkm. She hadi 
debawhed and palled then appetites, that they 
bave no xeHah for dieir nkest daintiea; her vota- 
ries tae beontae her victiBia ; tbe jeat and natoral 
conseqaence which God hafli ordained, in ttie cwn- 
sdtnJionofihinga, for the pimiahmcntof those who 

tbnse lus gifia* , ., 

But who is she that with graceful steps, and with 

a Uvdy air, trips oyer yonder plaint 

The rose blusheth on her cheeks, the sweetness 
of the moning breatheth firom her lips; joy, tem- 
pered with innocence and modesty, sparkledi in 
hTr eyes, and from the cheeifidness of her heart 
she singeth as she walks. 

Her name is Health; she is the daughter of 
Sxeidse and Temperance ; theb sons inhabit the 
mountains of the northern regions. 

They are brave, active, and lively, and partakb 
of all the beauties and virtues of their sMter. 

ViKour stringeth their nerves, strength dweUeth 
in their bones, and labour is their delight all the 

"^^e^Snployments of their father excite their 
appetites, and the repasts of their mother refiresh 

them* 

To combat the passions is their delight; to con- 
qupr evil habite their glory. ^ ^ ^ , 

Their pleasures are moderate, and therefore they 
endure ; their repose is short, but sound and un- 
disturbed. 

Their blood is pure, their minds are serene, and 
the physician fiadeth aol the way to their habita- 
tions. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 251 

But safety dwelleth not inth the sons of men, 
neither is security found within their gates. 

Behold them exposed to new dangers from 
without, while a traitor within lurketh to betray 
them. 

Their health, their strength, their beauty and 
activity, have raised desire in the bosom of lasci- 
vious love. 

She standeth in her bower, she courteth their 
regard, she spreadeth her temptations. 

Her limbs are soft and delicate ; her attire is loose 
and inviting. Wantonness speaketh in her eyes, 
and on her bosom sits temptation. She beckoneth 
them with her finger, she wooeth them with her 
looks, and by the smoothness of her tongue, she 
endeavoureth to deceive. 

Ah ! fly from her allurements, stop thy ears to 
her enchanting words. If thou meetest the lan- 
guishing of her eyes^ if thou hearest the softness 
of her voice ; if she casteth her arms about thee, 
she bindeth thee in chains for ever: 

Shame followeth, and disease, and want, and 
care, and repentance. 

Enfeebled by dalliance, with luxury pampered, 
and softened by sloth, strength shall forsake thy 
limbs, and health thy constitution; thy days shall 
be few, and those inglorious : thy^griefe shall be 
many, yet meet with no compassion. 



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2S2 TS^ ECONOMY 



THE PASSIONS. 



HOPE AND FEAR. 



Tb e promises of hope are sweeter than roses in the 
bud« and far more flattering to expectation; but the 
threatenings of fear are a terror to the heart. 

Nevertheless let not hope allure, nor fear deter 
thee from doing that which is right; so shalt thou 
be prepared to meet iedl events with an eqoal mind. 

The terrors even of death are no terrors to the 
good : he that committeth no evil hath nothing to 
fear. 

In all thy nndertakings let a reasonable assurance 
animate thy endeavours ; if thou despairest of suc- 
cess, thou shalt not succeed. 

Terrify not thy soid with vain fears, neither let 
thy heart sink within thee from the phantoms of 
imagination. 

From fear proceedeth misfortune ; but he that 
hopeth, helpeth himself. 

As the ostrich, when pursued, hideth his head*, . 
but foxgetteth his body; so the fears of a coward 
expose him to danger. 

If thou believest a thing impossible, thy de- 
spondency shall niake it so; but he that perse- 
vereth, shall overcome difficulties. 

A vain hope flattereth the heart of a fool ; but he 
that is wise pursueth it not. 

In all thy desires let reason go along with thee, 
and fix not thy hopes beyond the bounds of proba- 
bility, so shall success attend thy undertakings, thy 
heart shall not ^ vexed with disappointment. 



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OF HUlffAK LIFE. 253 

JOY AND GRIEF. 

Let not thy mirth be so extravagant as to in- 
toxicate thy mindj nor thy sorrow so heavy aa to 
depress thy heart. This world afibrdeth no good 
80 transporting, nor inflicteth any evil so severe, as 
should raise thee far above, or sink thee mneh be- 
neath, the balance of moderation. 

Lo! yonder standeth the house of Joy. It is 
painted on the outside, and looketh gay; thou 
mayest know it from the continual noise of mirth 
and exultation that issueth from it. 

The mistress standeth at the door, and calteth 
aloud to all that pass by ; she singeth, and shout- 
eth, and laugheth without ceasing. 

She inviteth them to go in and taste the pleasures 
of life, which she telleth them are nowhere to be 
found but beneath her roof. 

But enter not thou into her gate : neither associate 
thyself with those who frequent her house. 

They call themselves the sons of Joy ; they laugh 
and seem delighted : but madness and folly are in 
all their doings. 

They are linked with mischief hand in hand*. 
and their steps lead down to evil. Dangers beset 
them round about, and the pit of destruction yawn- 
eth beneath their fecit. 

Look now on the other side, and behold, in that 
vale overshadowed with trees, and hid from the 
sight of men, the habitation of Sorrow. 

Her bosom heaveth with sighs, her mouth is 
filled with lamentation! she delighteth to dwell on 
the subject of human misery. 

She looketh on the common accidents of life and 
weepeth : the weakness and wickedness of man is 
the theme of her lips. 



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954 . THE BCONOMT 

All natare to her teemeth with evil, every object 
she seeth is tinged with the gloom of her own mind, 
^d the voice of complaint saddeneth her dwelHng 
day and night. 

Come not near her cell ; her breath is contagious ; 
she will blast the fruits, and wither the flowers,, that 
adorn and sweeten the garden of life. 

In avoiding the house of Joy, let not thy feet 
betray thee to the borders of this dismal mansion : 
hut. pursue with care the middle path, which shall 
load thee by a gentle ascent to the bower of Tran- 
quillity. 

With her dwelleth Peace, with her dwelleth 
Safety and Contentment. She is cheerful, but not 
gay ; she is serious, but not grave ; she vieweth the 
joys and sorrows of life with an equal and steady 
eye. 

From hence, as from an eminence, shalt thou 
behold the folly and the misery of those,, who, led 
by the gaiety of their hearts, take up their abode 
widi the companions of Jollity and riotous Mirth ; 
or infepted with Gloominess and Melancholy, 
spend all their days in complaining of the woes 
and calamities of human life. 

Thou shalt view them both with pity, and the 
error of their ways shall lieep thy feet from straying. 



As the whirlwind in its fuiy teareth up trees, 
and deformeth the face of nature, or as an eardi- 
quake in its convulsions overtumeth whole cities; 
so the rage of an angry man throweth miai'^iyf 
around him. Danger and destruction wait on his 
hand. 

But consider, and forget not thine own weakness; 
so Shalt thou pardon the failings of otheis. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. S5$ 

Indulge not thyself in the passion of anger; it is 
whetting a sword to wound thine own breast^ or 
murder thy friend. 

If thou bearest slight provocations with patience^ 
it shall be imputed unto thee for wisdom ; and i^ 
thou wipest them from thy remembrance, thy heart 
shall not reproach thee. 

Seest thou not that the angry man loseth his 
understanding? Whilst thou art yet in thy senses, 
let the wrath of another be a lesson to thyself. 

Do nothing in a passion. Why wilt thou put to 
sea in the violence of a storm? 

If it be difficult to rule thine anger, it is wise to 
prevent it : avoid therefore all occasions of falling 
into wrath ; or guard thyself against them whenever 
they occur. 

A fool is provoked with insolent speeches, but a 
wise man laugheth them to scorn. 

Harbour not revenge in thy breast, it will torment 
thy heart, and warp its best inclinations. 

Be always more ready to forgive, than to return 
an injury : he that watches for an opportunity of 
revenge, lieth in wait against himself; and draw- 
eth down mischief on his own head. 

A mild answer to an angry man, like water cast 
upon the fire, abateth his heat, and from an enemy 
he shall become thy friend. 

Consider how few things are worthy of anger, 
and thou wilt wonder that any but fools should be 
wroth. 

In folly or weakness it alwa3rs beginneth ; but 
remember, and be well assured, it seldom con- 
cludeth without repentance. 

On the heels of folly treadeth shame : at the 
back of anger standeth remorse. 



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t»6 MB BCONOMV 



PITY, 



As blossoms and flowers axe strewed upon earth 
by the hand o£ spring, as the kindness of summer 
produceth in pei^ection the bounties of harvest; so 
the smiles of Pity shed blessings on the children of 
misfortune. 

He who pitieth another, recommendeth himseilf ; 
but he who is without compassion, deserveth it not. 

The butcher relenteth not at the bleating of the 
lamb; neither is the heart of the cruel moved with 
distress. 

But the tears of the compassionate are sweeter 
than dew-drops falling from roses on the bosom of 
the spring. 

Shut not thine ear therefore against the cries of 
the poor; neither harden thine heart against the 
calamities of the innocent. 

When the fatherless call upon thee, when the 
widow's heart is sunk, and she imploreth thy assist- 
ance with tears of sorrow; O pity her affliction, and 
extend thy hand to those who have none to help 
them. 

When thou seest the naked wanderer of the street, 
shivering with cold, and destitute of habitation; 
let bounty open thine heart, let the wings of cha- 
rity shelter him from death, that thine own soul 
may live. 

Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sick- 
ness, whilst the unfortunate languish in the horxois 
of a dungeon, or the hoary head of age lifts up a 
feeble eye to thee for pity; O how canst thou riot 
in superfluous enjoyments, regardless of their wants^ 
unfeeling of their woes. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 257 



DESIftE AND LOVB. 



Beware, young man, beware of tbe allurements 
of wantonness, and let not the harlot tempt thee to 
her delights. 

The madness of desire shall defeat its own pur- 
suits; from the blindness of its rage thou shalt tush 
upon destruction. 

Therefore give not up thy heart to her entice- 
ments, neither suffer thy soul to be enslaved by her 
delusions. 

The fountain of health, which must supply the 
stream of pleasure, shall quickly be dried up, and 
every spring of joy shall be exhausted. 

In the prime of thy life old age shall overtake 
thee; thy sun shall decline in the morning of thy 
days. 

But when virtue and modesty enlighten her 
charms, the lustre of a beautiful woman is brighter 
than the stars of heaven, and the influence of her 
power it is in vain to resist. 

The whiteness of her bosom transcendeth the 
lily; her smile is more delicious than a garden of 
roses. 

The innocence of her eye is like that of the tur- 
tle; simplicity and truth dwell in her heart. 

The kisses of her mouth are sweeter than honey; 
the perfumes of Arabia breathe from her lips. 

Shut not thy bosom to the tenderness of love : the 
purity of its flame shall ennoble thy heart, and soffcen 
it to receive the fairest impressions. 

WOMAN, 

GIVE ear, fak daughter of love, to the instruc- 
tions of pmde&oe, and let the pieoepts of truth tSiiik 



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25B THJ8 BCONOMY 

deep in thy heart, so shall the charms of thy mind 
add lustre to the elegance of thy form; and thy 
beauty, like the rose it resembleth, shall letainrits 
sweetness when its bloom is withered. 

In the spring of thy youth, in the morning of thy 
days, when the eyes of men gaze on thee with de- 
light, and nature whispereth in thine ear the mean- 
ing of their looks: ah! hear with caution their se- 
ducing words; guard well thy heart, nor listen to 
their soft persuasions. 

Remember that thou art made man's reasonable 
companion, not the slave of his passion; the end of 
thy being is not merely to gratify his loose desire, 
but to assist him in the toils of life, to soothe him 
with thy tenderness, and recompense his care with 
soft endearments. 

Who is she that winneth the heart of man, that 
subdueth him to love, and reigneth in his breast? 

Lo! yonder she walketh in maiden sweetness, 
with innocence in her mind, and modesty on her 

Her hand seeketh employment, her foot delight- 
eth not in gadding abroad . 

She is clothed with neatness, she is fed with tem- 
perance; humility and meekness are as a crown of 
glory circling her head. 

On her tongue dwelleth music, the sweetness of 
honey floweth from her lips. 

Decency is in all her words, in her answers are 
mildness and truth. 

Submission and obedience are the lessons of her 
life, and peace and happiness are her reward. 

Before her steps walketh prudence, and virtue 
attendeth at her right hand. 

Her eye speaketh softness and love; but dis- 
«f0tiion with a sceptre sitteth on her brow. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 25& 

Tbp tongue of the licentious is dumb in her pre- 
sence, the awe of her virtue keepeth them silent. 

When scandal is busy, and the fame of her neigh- 
bour is tossed from iongue to tongue : if charity and 
good-nature opennothermouth^the finger of silence 
resteth on hei lip. 

Her breast is the mansion of goodness, and there- 
fore she suspecteth no evil in others. 

Happy were the man that should make her his 
wife ; happy the child that shall call her mother. 

She presideth in the house and there is peace : 
she commandeth with judgment, and is obeyed. 

She ariseth in the morning, she considers her 
affairs, and appointeth to every one their proper 
business. 

The care of her family is her whole delight, to 
that alone she applieth her study : and elegance with 
frugality is seen in her mansions. 

The prudence of her management is an honour 
to her husband, and he heareth her praise with a 
secret delight. 

She informeth the minds of her children with 
wisdom; she fashioneth their manners from the ex- 
ample of her own goodness. 

llie word of her mouth is the law of their youth, 
the motion of her eye commendeth their obedience. 

She speaketh, and her servants fly; she pointeth, 
and the thing is done: for the law of love 'is in 
their hearts, and her kindness addeth wings to their 
feet. 

In prosperity she is not puffed up ; in adversity 
she healedi the wounds of fortune with patience. 

The troubles of her husband are alleviated by 
her counsels, and sweetened by her endearments : 
he putteth hu heart in her bosom^ and receiveth 
comfort. 



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360 THB SCOKOHY 

CONSANGUINITY, OR NATURAL 
RELATIONS. 

HUSBAND, 

Take onto thyself a wife, and obey the oidi* 
nance of God : take unto thyself a wife, and become 
a fidthfnl member of society. 

But examine with care, and fix not suddenly. 
On thy present choice depends thy future happiness. 

If much of her time is destroyed in dress and 
adornments; if she is enamoured with her own 
beauty, and delighteth in her own praise ; if she 
laugheth much, and talketh loud; if her foot 
abideth not in her father's house, and her eyes 
with boldness rove on the faces of men : though 
her beauty were as the sun in the firmament of 
.heaven, turn thy face from her charms, turn thy 
feet from her paths, and suffer not thy soul to be 
ensnared by the allurements of imagination. 

But when thou findest sensibility of heart joined 
with softness of manners; an accomplished mind, 
with a form agreeable to thy fsncy; take her home 
to thy house ; she is worthy to be thy friend, thy 
companion in life, the wife of thy bosom. 

O cherish her as a blessing sent thee from heaven 
Let the kindness of thy behaviour endear thee to 
her heart. 

She is the mistress of thy house ; treat her theie- 
fyte with respect, that thy servants may obey her. 

Oppose not her inclinations without causey she 
is the partner of thy cares, make her also the com- 
panion of thy pleasures. 

Reprove her faults with gentleness; exact not 
her obedience with rigour. 



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OF HUMAN IiIFB. 261 

Tcwt thy iwcrets in her beast; her comiseli «ie 
sincere^ thou shalt not be deceived. 

Be faithful to her bed; for she is the mother of 
thy children. 

'When pain and sickness assault her^ let thy ten- 
^denMss soothe her affliction : a look from thee of 
pity and love shall alleviate her grief, or mitir 
gate her pain, and be of more avail than ten phy- 



Consider the tenderness of her sexj the delicacy 
of her frame; and be not severe to her weakness, 
but remember thine own imperfections. 

FATHER. 

Consider thou, who art aparent, the importance 
of thy trust : the being thou hast produced, it is thy 
duty to support. 

Upon thee also it may depend, whether the child 
of thy bosom shall be a blessing or a curse to thy- 
self ; an useful or a worthless member^to the com- 
munity. 

Prepare him early with instruction, and season 
his mind with the maxims of truth. 

Watch the bent of his inclination, set him right 
in his youth, and let no evil habit gain strength 
with his years. 

So shall he rise like a cedar on the mountains; 
his head shall be seen above the trees of the forest. 

A wicked son is a reproach to his father : but he 
that doth right is an honour to his gray hairs. 

The soil is thine own, let it not want cultivation; 
the seed which thou sowest, that also expect to 
reap. 

Teach him obedience, and he shall bless thee : 
teach him modesty, and he shall not be ashamed. 



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aeai tHB BCoNOMf 

Teach him gratitade^ and he shall reeeive beHe" 
fits: teach him charity^ and he shall gain love. 

Teach him temperance^ and he shall have health : 
teach him prudence, and fortune shall attend him* 

Teach him justice, and he shall be honoured by 
the world : teach him sincerity, and his own heart 
shall not reproach him. 

' Teach him diligence, and his wealth shall in- 
crease : teach him benevolence, and his mind shall 
be exalted. 

Teach him science, and his life shall be useftil; 
teach him religion, and his death shall be hapf>y« 



From the creatures of God let man learn wis- 
dom, and apply to himself the instructions they 
give. 

Go to the desert, my son : observe the young 
stork of the wilderness : let him speak to thy heart. 
He beareth on his wings his aged sire : he lodgeth 
him with safety, and supplieth him with food. 

The piety of a child is sweeter than the incense 
of Persia o£fered to the sun; yea more delicious 
than odours wafted from a field of Arabian spices 
by the western gales. 

Be grateful then to thy father, for he gave thee 
life ; and to thy mother, for she sustained thee. 

Hear the words of hia mouth, for they are spoken 
for thy good : give ear to his admonition, for it 
proceedeth from love. 

He hath watched for thy welfare, he hath toiled 
for thy ease : do honour therefore to his age, and 
let not his gray hairs be treated with irreverence. 

Forget not thy helpless infancy, nor thte forward- 
ness of thy youth, and indulge the infinnities of 



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OF HUMAN LIF£. 369 

thy aged pftvents; assist and support them in the 
decline of life. 

So shall their hoazy heads go down to the grave 
in peace ; and thine own children^ in reverence of 
thy example^ shall repay thy piety with filial love; 

BROTHERS. 

Yb are the children of one father, provided for 
by his care; and the breast of one mother hath 
given you suck. 

- Let the bonds of affection^ therefore, unite you, 
that peace and happiness may dwell in your father's 
house. 

And when you separate in the world, remember 
the relation that bindeth you to love and unity; 
and prefer not a stranger to your own blood. 

If thy. brother is in adversity, assist him: if thy 
sister is in trouble, forsake her not. 

So shall the fortunes of thy father contribute to 
the support of his whole race ; and his care be con- 
tinued to you^l in your love to each other. 



PROVIDENCE; OR THE ACCIDENTAL 
DIFFERENCES IN MEN. 



WISE AND IGNORANT. 

The gifts of the understanding are the treasures of 
God ; and he appointeth to every one his portion, 
in what measure seemeth good unto himself. 

Hath he endued thee with wisdom? hath he en- 
lightened thy mind with the knowledge of truth? 
Commonicate it to the ignorant^ for their inst"'"- 



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364 THE ECONOmr 

tioa ; commiiiucato it to the vrise, for thiae oim 
impTOvement. 

True wisdom is less presaming than folly. The 
fool is obstinate^ and doubteth not; he knoweth all 
things bat his own ignorance. 

The pride of emptiness is an abomination; and 
to talk taxkch. is the foolishness of folly. Never- 
theless, it is the part of wisdom to bear impectiaeiioe 
with patience, and to pity absozdity* 

Yet be not puffed up with thine own conceit^ 
neither boast of superior understanding; the clear- 
est human knowledge is but blindness and folly. 

The wise man feeleth his imperfections, and ji 
humbled; he laboureth in vain for his own appgro- 
bation: but the fool peepeth in the shallow stream 
of his own mind, and is pleased with the pebble* 
which he sees at the bottom ; he bringeth them up, 
and sheweth them as pearls ; and with the applanae 
of his brethren delighteth he himself. 

He boasteth attainments in things that are of no 
worth : but vthbre it is a shame to be ignovanti 
there he hath no understanding. 

Even in the path of wisdom he toileth after folly ; 
and shame and disappointment are the reward td 
his labour. 

But the wise man cultivates his mind with know- 
ledge : the improvement of arts is his delight, and 
their utility to die public crowneth him with honour. 

Nevertheless the attainment of virtue he account- 
eth as the highest learning ; and the science of hi^ 
piness is the study of his life. 

RICH AND POOR. 

The man to whom God hath given riches, and 
blessed with a mind to employ them aright, is pe- 
culiarly favoured, and highly distinguished. 



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01^ HUMAN I#TF.]3. 265 

H^ loolieth bb. lui tTMhlfc witb pleasisre, because 
it aifordeth him the means to. do good. 

He leeketh out objects of compassion: he'in- 
quireth into their wants; he relieveth with judg<<^ 
memt, and without .ostentation. 

He assisteth and rewardeth merit: he encou- 
mgsth .ingenuit]^, and libexalty promoteth every 
useful design. 

He cacrieth on great works; his country is en- 
iiched, and the labourer is employed : he formeth 
naw schemes, and the arts receive improvement. 

He eonsidereth the superfluities of his table as 
belonging to ihe poor of his neighbourhood ; and he 
definndeth them not. ■ 

The benevolence of his mind is not checked by 
his fortune; he Tejoieeth ■ therefore iii ikhe»> and 
has joy is blameless* 

But woe uato him that heapeth up wealth in 
abundanoe> and' rejoiceth alone<iu the possession 
thereof t 

- That grindetii the face of the poor, and eonsider- 
eth not the sweat of their brows. 

He thrivelh On oppression without feeling : the 
Iruin of his brother disturbeth him n'ot. 

TkB teasa ofithe-orphan he drinketh asmilk : the 
eries of the widow are music to his ear. 

His heart is hardened with the }&ve of wealth t 
BOt^grief- nor -listless caa make impression upon 
it. 

But the earse of iniquity -punmeth himt he 
liveA in-eentfaiual-lbars the anxiety of his mind, 
and the rapacie«s desiresLof his own soul> take Ten> 
geance upon him for the calamities he has brought 
upon othen. 

O what aie the miseries of poverty, in comparison 
.with the gnawings of this man's heart I 
N 

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206 THE ECONOMY 

Let the poor man comfort liimself, yea> rejoice; 
for he hath many reasons. 

^e sitteth down to his morsel in peace; his table 
is not crowded with flatterers and devourers. 

He is not embarrassed with a train of dep^idants, 
nor teased with the damours of solicitation. 

Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he escap- 
eth also their diseases. 

The bread that he eateth, is it not sweet to his 
taste? the water he drinkediy is it not pleasant to 
his thirst? yea, far more delicious than the richest 
draughts of the luxurious. 

His labour preserveth his health, and procureth 
him a repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is a 
stranger. 

He Umiteth his desires with humility, and the 
calm of contentment is sweeter to his soul than all 
the acquirements of wealth and grandeur. 

I^et not the rich therefore presume on his riches, 
nor the poor despond in his poverty; for the pro- 
yideuce of God dispenseth happiness to them both. 

MASTERS AND SERVA^TS, 

Repine not, O man, at the state of servitude : 
it is the appointment of God, and hath many ad- 
vantages; it removeth thee ^m the cares. and 
solicitudes of life. 

The honour of a servant is his fidelity : his high- 
est virtues are submission and obedience. 

■Be patient, therefore, under the reproofe of thy 
master; and when he rebuketh thee answer not 
again. The silence of thy resignation shall not be 
forgotten. 

Be studious of his interest, be diligent in hta 
afifairs, and faithful to the trust which he leposeth 
in thee. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 267 

Thy time and tliy labour belong unto him. De- 
fraud him not thereof ^ for he payeth thee for them. 

And thou who art a master^ be just to thy ser- 
vant^ if thou expectest from him fidelity; and 
reasonable in thy commands^ if thou expectest a 
ready obedience. 

The spirit of a man is in him ; severity and 
rigour may create fear> but can never command 
his love. 

Mix kindness with reproof, and reason with 
authority : so shall thy admonitions take place in 
his hearty and his duty shall become his pleasure. 

He shall serve ihee faithfully from the motive of 
gratitude; he shall obey thee cheerfully firom the 
principle of love : and fail not thou^ in return^ to 
give his diligence and fidelity their proper reward. 

MAGISTRATES AND SUBJECTS. 

O THOU, favourite of heaven, whom the sons of 
men, thy equals, have agreed to raise to sovereign 
power, and set as a ruler over themselves ; consider 
the ends and importance of their trust, far more 
than the dignity and height of thy station. 

Thou art clothed in purple, and seated on a 
throne; the crown of majesty investeth thy tem- 
pies ; the sceptre of power is placed in thy hand ; 
but not for thyself were these ensigns given ; not 
meant for thine own, but the good of thy kingdom. 

The glory of a king is the welfare of his people ; 
his power and dominion rest on the hearts of his 
subjects. 

The mind of a great prince is exalted with the 
grandeur of his situation : he revolveth high things, 
and searcheth for business worthy of his power. 

He calleth together the wise men of his kingdom, 
he consulteth amongst them with freedom, and 
heanth the opinions of them allf 

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!^ THB toowm 

• He looketh Ai^ottg his people with diacenunenti 
he discovereth the abilities of men, and empli^eth 
them according to their merits. 

His magistrates are j«st> hiajninisteTS are vise, 
and the favourite of his bosom deceiveth him aot^ 

He smileth on the arts, and they flouTish.: the 
sciences improve beneath the culture of his hand. 

With the learned and ingenious he^delighteth 
himself; he kindleth in their breasts emidationi 
and the glory of. his, kingdom is exalted by their 
labours^ 

The spirit of the meifihant^ who«xteBdeth his 
commerce; the skill of the farmer^wko. enridieth 
his lands; thfe ingenuity of the artist> thQ improive- 
ment of the scholar; all these he honoureth with 
Iiis favour, or rewardeth with his bounty. 

He planteth new colonies, he buildeth strong 
ships, he openeth rivers for convenience, he formeth 
harbours for safety; his people abound in riches, 
and the strength of his kingdom' increasech.: • 

He frameth his statutes with equity and -wisdom ; 
his subjects enjoy the fruits of their labour in se- 
curity; and their happiness consists in the obaerv- 
ance of the law« 

He f oundeth his judgments on the pnncipLes of 
mercy ; but in the punishment of offenders he |s 
strict and impartial. 

His^ears are open to the complaints of his sub- 
jects; he restraineth the haAd of their oppressors, 
and delivereth them fromtheir tyralmy. 

His pf ople therefore look up to him as a father, 
with reverence and love ; they consider him «s the 
guardian of all they enjoy* . . ... 

Their affection unto him begetteth in bos breast 
a love of the public ; the security of their happiness^ 
is the object of his care. 

No murmurs against lum arise in their heartoi 

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OF HUMAN LIFB. 2fl9 

the machinations of his enemies endanger not his 
state. 

His subjects are faithful^ and firm in his cause; 
they stand in his defence as a wall of brass ; the 
army of a tyrant fiieth before them as chaff before 
the wind. 

Security and peace bless the dwellings of his 
people; glory and strength encircle his throne for 



THE SOCIAL DUTIES. 

BENEVOLENCE. 

When thou considerest tl^y wants^ when thou be- 
holdest thy imperfections, acknowledge his good- 
ness, O son of humanity! who honoured thee with 
reason, endued thee, with speech, and placed thee 
in society, to receiye and confer reciprocal helps and 
mutual obligations. 

Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habi- 
tation; thy protection from the injuries^i thy enjoy- 
ments of the comibrts and the pleasures of life : idl 
these thou owest to the assistance of otherS;, and 
couldst not enjoy but in the, bands of society. ^ 

It is thy duty therefore to be a fHehd to mankind, 
as it is thy interest that man should be firiendly to 
thee. 

As the rose breatheth sweetness from its own na- 
ture, so the .heart of a benevolent man produceth 
good works. 

He enjoyeth the ease and tranquillity of his own 
breast, and rejoiceth in the happiness and prospe- 
rity of his neighbour. 

He openeth not his ear unto slander: the faults 
and the failings of men give a pain to his heart. 



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270 THE ECOKOMY 

His desire is to do good, and he searcheth out the! 
occasions thereof; in removing the oppressions of 
another he r^lieveth himself. 

From the largeness of his mind, he comprehend- 
eth in his wishes the happiness of all men ; and from 
the generosity of his heart, he endeavoureth to pro- 
mote it. 



The peace of society dependeth onjostice; the 
happiness of individuals, on the safe enjoyment of 
all Uieir possessions. 

Keep the desires of thy heart, therefore, within 
the bounds of moderation : let the hand of justice 
lead them aright. 

Cast not an evil eye on thd goods of thy neigh- 
bour; let whatever is his property be sacred from 
thy touch. 

Lfet no temptation allure thee, nor any provo- 
catioJi excit^thec, to lift up thy hand to the hazard 
of his life. 

Defame him not in his character; bear no false 
witness against him. 

Corrupt not his servant to cheat or forsake him ; 
and the wife of his bosom, O tempt not to sin. 

It will be a grief to his heart, which thou canst 
not relieve ; an injury to his life, which no reparation 
can atone for. 

In thy dealings with men, be impartial and just; 
and do unto them as thou wouldst they should do 
tmto thee. 

Be fadthful to thy trust, and deceive not the man 
who relieth upon thee; be assured it is less evil in 
the sight of God to steals than to betray. 

Oppress not the poor, and defraud not of his hire 
the labouring man. 

When thou sellestfor gain^ hear the whisperings 



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OP HUMAN LIFE. 271 

of conscience^ and be satisfied with moderation; 
nor from the ignorance of the buyer make any ad- 
vanti^e. 

Pay the debts which thou owest, for he who gave 
thee credit^ relied upon thine honour : and to with- 
hold from him his due, is both mean and unjust. 

Finally, O son of society! examine thy heart, 
call remembrance to thy aid ; and if in any of these 
things thou findest thou hast transgressed, take sor- 
row and shame to thyself, and make speedy repa- 
ration to the utmost of thy power. 



Happy is the man who hath sown in his' breast 
the seeds of benevolence ; the produce thereof shall 
be charity and love. 

From the fountain of his heart shall rise rivers 
of goodness; and the streams shall overflow for the 
benefit of majikind. 

He assisteth the poor in their trouble ; he rejoiceth 
in furthering the prosperity of all men. 

He censureth not his neighbour, he believeth not 
the tales of envy and malevolence, neither repeat- 
eth he their slanders. 

He f orgiveth the injuries of men, he wipeth them 
from his remembrance; revenge and malice have 
no place in his heart. 

For evil he returneth not evil; he hateth not even 
his enemies, but requiteth their injustice with 
friendly admonition. 

The griefs and anxietes of men excite his com* 
passion; he endeavouretK to alleviate the weight of 
their misfortunes, and the pleasure of success re*' 
vardeth his labour. 

He calmeth the fury, he healeth the quarrels of 
angry men, and preventeth the mischiefs of strife 
and animosity 



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272 THE ECONOMY 

He promoteth in his neighbourhood peace and 
good-will^ and hif name is repeated with praise and 
benedictions. 

GRATITUDE. 

As the branches of a tree return their sap to the 
root from whence it arose; as a river ^oureth his 
streams to the sea^ where his spring was supplied; 
80 the heart of a grateful man delighteth in return* 
ing a benefit received . 

He acknowledgeth his obligations with che^rfhl- 
ness ; he looketh on his benefactor with love and 
esteem. 

And if to return it be nol; in his power, he nOu- 
risheth the memory of it in his breast with kindness, 
he foTgetteth it not all the days of his life. 

The hand of the generous man is like the clouds 
of heaven, which drop upon the earth, fruits, herb- 
age, and flowers : but the heart of the ungrateful is 
like a desert of sand, -which swalloweth with greedi- 
ness the showers that fall, and burieth them in its 
bosom, and produceth nothing. 

Envy not thy benefactor, neither strive to conceal 
the benefit he hath conferred ; for though the act 
of generosity commandeth admiration, yet the hu- 
mility of gratitude touch eth the heart, and is ami- 
able in the sight both of God and man. 

But receive not a favour from the hands of the 
proud ; to the selfish and avaricious have no obli- 
gation: the vanity of pride shall expose thee to 
shame, the greediness of ^tvarice shall never be sa- 
tisfied. 

SINCERITY. 

O THOU who art enamoured with the beauties of 
Truth, and hast fixed thy heart on the simplicity of 
er chatmc, bold fast thy fidelity unto her,and £or> 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 273 

ftftke her not ; the constancy of thy virtue shall crown 
thee with honour. 

The tongue of the sincere is rooted in his heart; 
hypocrisy and deceit have no place in his words. 

He blusheth at falsehood, and is confounded : but 
in speaking the truth he hath a steady eye. 

He supporteth as a man the dignity of his cha- 
racter; to the arts of hypocrisy he scometh to stoop. 
He is consistent with himself; he is never embar- 
rassed; he hath courage enough for truths but to lie 
he is afraid. 

He is far above the meanness of dissimulation ; 
the words of his mouth are the thoughts of his 
heart. 

Yet with prudence and caution he openeth his 
lips; he studieth what is right, and speaketh with 
discretion. 

He adviseth with friendship, he reproveth with 
freedom : and whatsoever he promiseth shall surely 
be performed. 

But the heart of the hypocrite is hid in his breast ; 
he masketh his words in the semblance of truths 
while the business of his life is only to deceive. 

He laugheth in sorrow, he weepeth in joy ; and 
the words of his mouth have no interpretation. 

He woriLeth in the daric as a mole, and fancieth 
he is safe ; but he blundereth into light, and is be« 
trayed and exposed, with his dirt on his head. 

He passeth his days with perpetual constraint : 
his tongue and his heart are for ever at variance. 
He laboureth for the character of a righteous 
man ; and huggeth himself in the thoughts of his 
cunning. 

O fool, fool ! the pains which thou takest to hide 
what thou art, are more than would make thee 
what thou wouldst seem; and the children of wi"- 
N2 



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5T4 TOB ECONOMY • 

dom shttll mock at thy cnmung^ when^ in the midst 
of security, thy disguise is stripped off, and the 
finger of derision shall point thee to scom« 



UELKJION. 

"fllERE is but one God> the author, the creator^ 
the governor of the world, almighty, eternal, and 
incomprehensible . 

The sun is not God> though, his noblest image. 
He enliveneth the world with.hjs brightness, his 
warmth giveth life to the products of the earth s 
admire him as the creature, the instrument of G6d ; 
but worship him not. 

To the One who is supreme, most wise and be- 
neficent, and to him alone, belong worship, adora- 
tion, thanksgiving, and praise ! 

-Who hath stretched forth the heavens with his 
hand; who hath described with his finger the 
courses of the stars. 

Who setteth bounds to the ocean, that it cannot 
pass; and saith unto the stormy winds. Be still. 

Who shake th the earth, and Uie nations tremble ) 
who darteth his lightnings, and the wicked are 
dismayed. 

Who calleth forth worlds by the word of his 
mouth ; who smiteth with his arm, and they sink 
Into nothing. 

' O reverence the Majesty of the Omnipotent; and 
tempt not his anger, lest thou be destroyed ! 

The providence of God is over all his works: he 
ruleth and directeth with infinite wisdom. 

He hath instituted laws for the government of 
the world ; he hath wonderfully varied them in his 
k#iiigs;aiideachbyhi8natureyConformethtohiswill. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 376 

In the depths of his mind he revolveth all knowv 
ledge ; the secrets of futurity lie open before him. 

The thoughts of thy heart are naked to his view; 
he kno weth thy determinationsbefore they are made. 

With respect to his prescience, there is nothing 
contingent: with respect to his providence^ there is 
nothing accidental. 

Wonderful is he in all his ways^ his counsels 
are inscrutable; the manner of his knowledge 
transcendeth thy conception. 

Pay therefore to his wisdom all honour and ve* 
Deration y and bow down thyself in humble and 
submissive obedience to his supreme direction. 

The Lord is gracious and beneficent: he hath 
created the world in mercy and love. 

His goodness is conspicuous in all his works: he 
is the fountain of excellence, the centre of perfection. 

The creatures of his hand declare his goodness, 
and all their enjoyments speak his praise: he 
dotheth them ^ith beauty, he supporteth them 
with food, he preserveth them with pleasure from 
generation to generation. 

If we lift up our «yes to the heavens, his glory 
shineth forth ; if we cast them down upon the earth, 
it is full of his goodness-; the hills and the valleys 
rejoice and sing; fields, rivers, and woods i^esouQd 
his praise. 

But thou, O man, he hath, distinguished with 
peculiar favour; and exalted thy station above all 
creatures. 

He hath endued thee with reason,. to maintain 
thy dominion : he hath fitted thee wi(h language^ 
to improve by society; and exalted thy mind with 
the powers of meditation, to contemplate and adore 
his inimitable perfections. 

And in the laws he hath ordained as the rule of 
thy life, so kindly hath he smted thy duty to thy 



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ft76 THE ECONOMY 

naturei that obedience to his precepts is happiness 

to thyself. 

O praise his goodness with songs of thanksgiving, 
and meditate in silence, on the wonders of his 
love; let thy heart overflow with gratitude and ac- 
knowledgment; let the language of thy lips speak 
praise and adoration; let the actions of thy life 
shew thy love to his law. 

The Lord is just and righteous, and will judge 
the earth with equity and truth. 

Hath he established his Ikws in goodness and mer- 
cy, and shall he not punish the transgressors thereof 7 

O think not, bold man! because tby punishment 
is Relayed, that the arm of the Lord is weakened : 
neither flatter thyself with hopes that he winketh 
at thy doings. 

His eye pierceth the secrets of every heart, and 
he rcmembereth them for ever : he respecteth not 
the persons or the stations of men. 

The high and the low, the rich and th« poor, the 
wise and the ignorant, when the soul hath shaken 
oS the cumbrous shackles of this mortal life, shall 
equally receive from the sentence of Grod a justand 
everlasting retribution, according to their works. 

Then shall the wicked tremble and be afraid ; but 
the heart of the righteous shall rejoice in his judg- 
ments. 

O fear the Lord, therefore, all the days of tby 
life, and walk in the paths which he hath opened 
before thee. Let prudence admonish thee, let tem- 
perance restrain, let justice guide thy hand, and 
benevolence warm thy heart, and gratitude to 
heaven inspire thee with devotion. These shall 
give thee happiness in thy present state, and bring 
thee to the mansions of eternal felicity, in the pa- 
Vadise of God. 
This .is the true ECONOMY of Human Life. 



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Ot HUMAK LIFE. ^7^ 



MAN CONSIDERED IN THE GENERAL. 

OF THE HUMAN FRAME AND STRUCTURE. 
Weak and ignorant as thou art^ O man ! humble 
as thou oughtesttobe, O child of the dust! wouldst 
thou raise thy thoughts to infinite wisdom ? wouldst 
thou see Omnipotence displayed before thee? con^ 
template thine own frame. 

Fearfully and wonderfully art thou made : praise 
therefore thy Creator with' awe^ and rejoice before 
him with reverence. 

Wherefore of all creatures art thon only erect, 
but that thou shouldst behold his works ! wherefore 
art thou to behold, but that thou mayest admire 
them ! wherefore to admire, but that itou mayest 
adore their and thy Creator ! 

Wherefore is consciousness reposed in thee 
alone? and whence is it derived to thee? 

It is not in flesh to think ; it is not in bones to 
reason. The lion knoweth not that worms shall 
eat him; the ox perceiveth not that he is fed for 
slaughter. 

Something is added to thee unlike to what thou 
seest: something informs thy clay, higher than all 
that is the object of thy senses. Behold, what is it? 

Thy body remaineth perfect after it is fled, there* 
fore it is no part of it ; it is immaterial ; therefore 
it is eternal; it is free to act, therefore it is unac* 
countable for its actions. 

Knoweth the ass the use of food, because his 
teeth mow down the herbage? or standeth the 
crocodile ei«ct, although his back bone is as strait 
as thine. 

God formed thee as he had formed these : after 
them all wast thou created: superiority and corn- 



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rm THE ECONOMY 

■land vere given thee over all; and of his own 
bieath did he communicate to thee thy principle 
of knowledge. 

Know thyself then the pride of his creation, 
the linic unidng idiviiuty and matter ; behold a part 
of God himself within thee : remember thine own 
digfiity, nor dare to descend to evil or meanness. 

Who planted terror in the tail of the serpent? 
who clothed the nec1( of the horse with thunder? 
even he who hath instructed thee to crush the one 
under thy feet, and to tame the other to thy pur^ 
poses. 

OF THE USE OF THE SENSES. 

Vaunt not of thy body, because it was first 
formed; nor of thy brain, because therein thy soul 
t^ideth. Is hot the master of the house more 
honourable than its walls? 

The ground must be prepared before com can 
be planted ; the potter must build his furnace be- 
fore he can make his porcelain. 

-^s the breath of Heaven sayeth unto the waters 
of the deep. This way shall thy billows roll, and 
no oth^r ; thus high and no higher, shall they raise 
their fury ; so let thy spirit, O man, actuate and 
direct thy £esh; so let it repress its wildness. 

Thy soul is*the monarch of thy frame j suffer not 
its subjects to rebel against it. 

Thy body is as the globe of the earth, thy bones 
the pillars that sustain it on its basis. 

As the ocean giveth rise to springs, whose waters 
return again into its bosom through the rivers, so 
runneth thy life horn thy heart outwards, and so 
runneth it into its place again. 

Do not both retain their course for ever? Be- 
hold, the same God ordaineth them. 

U not thy nose the chumel to perftiincs? thy 



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0^ fliTMAN Lli'E. 279 

iiioatli tke pbih td d^^Ucadi^i^? Yet know thou^ 
that perfumes long smelt become offensive, tliat de* 
licacies destroy the appetite they flatter. 

Are not thind eyes fhe centinels that watch ft/t 
thee? yet how often are they unable to distinguish 
truA from' error? 

Keep thy soul in moderation^ teach thy spirit to 
he attentive to its good : so shall these its ministers 
be always open to the conveyances of truth. 

Thine hand is it not a miracle? is there iii'the 
creation aught like unto it? wherefore was it given 
thee, but that thou mightest stretch it out to the as* 
sistance of thy brother ? 

Why of all things living art thou alone made 
capable of blushing? The world shall read' thy 
shaine upon thy face : therefore do nothing sh'ame- 
ftti: 

Fear and dismay, why rob they the countenance 
of its ruddy splendour. Avoiil guilt, and thou slialt 
know that fear iA beneath' thee ^ that dismay is un- 
mahly. 

Wherefore to thee alone speak shadows in the 
visions of thy pillow ? Reverence them, fdrVhow, 
that dreaiiis are from on high. 

Tliou man alone canst speak. Wonder at thy 
gloilous prerogative ; and pay to him who gave it 
thee a tadonal and welcome praise,- teaching thy 
children wisdom, instructing the offspring of thy 
loins in piety. ■ ' ' 

THE SOUL OF MAN, ITS ORIGIN AND AFFEeTIONS* 
The blessings, O man ! of thy es^temal part, are 

health, vigour, and proportibn. The greatest of 

thefle is health. What health is to the body, even 

that is honesty to the soul. 
That thou hast a soul, is of all knowledge the 

most certain, of all txathf the most plain imtoth' * 

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280 THJB ECONOMY 

Be meek, be grateful for it. Seek not to know it, 
it is inscrutable. 

Thinking, understanding, reasoxung, willing, call 
not these the soul ! They are its actions, but they 
are not its essence. 

Raise it not too high, that thou be not despised. 
Be not thou like unto those who fall by dimbing : 
neither debase it to the sense of brutes ; nor be thou 
like unto the horse, and the mule, in whom there 19 
no such understanding. 

Search it by ito faculties ; know it by its virtues. 
They are more |n number than the hairs of thy 
head ; the stars of heaven are not to be counted 
with them. 

Think not with Arabia, that one soul is parted 
among all men; neither believe thou with the sons 
of Egypt, that every man hath many; know, tha^ 
as thy heart, so also thy soul is one. 

Doth not the sun harden the clay? doth it not 
also soften the wax? As it is one sun that worketh 
both, even so it is one soul that willeth contraries. 

As tile moon retaineth her nature, though darkness 
spread itself before her face as a curtain, so the 
soul remaineth perfect, even in the bosom of a fool. 

She is immortal ; she is unchangeable; she is 
alike in all. Health calleth her forth to shew 
her loveliness, and application anointeth her with 
the oil of wisdom, 

Although she shall live after thee, feink not she 

befpifi^^ee. She was concreated witE 

flesh, and formed with thy brain. 

Justice could not give her to thee exalted by 
virtues, nor mercy deliver her to thee deformed bgr 
vices. These must be thine, and thou must answev 
for them. 

Suppose not death can shield thee from ex- 
amination; think not corruption can hide thee 

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OF HUMAK LIFE. 281 

from inquiry. He wHo formed thee of thoa know- 
est not what, can he not raise thee tothouknoweat 
not what i^ain? 

Perceiveth not the cock the hour of midni^t? 
Exalteth he not his voice, to tell thee it is morn- 
ing? Knoweth not the dog the footsteps of his 
master? and flieth not the wounded goat unto the 
herb that healeth him ? Yet when these die, their 
spirit retumeth to the dust : thine alone surviveth. 

Envy not these theijb senses, because quicker 
than thine own. Learn that the advantage lieth 
not in possessing good thingd, but in knowing how 
to use them. 

Hadst thou the ear of a stag, or were thine' eye 
AS strong and piercing as the eilgle's; didst thou 
equal the hound in smelly or could thfe ape' resign 
to thee his tastei or the tottdisb h^r feeling; yet 
without reason, what would they aVail'thce? 
Perish not air these likiB'thigirtindred? ■• ' ' 

Hath any one of them the gift of speech? Can 
any say unto thee. Therefore! did I 'S6 7' ' ' * * 

The lips of the wise are as the doors of a cabi- 
net; no sooner are they opened, but treasures are 
poured out beforfe thee. f - ■ 

Like unto trees of gold arranged in beds of silver, 
are wise sentences uttered in due season. 

Canst thou think too greatly of thy soul? or can 
toamueh be said in iU praise ? It is the image of 
him who gave it. 

Romenber thou its dignity for ever; forget not 
how great a talent is committed to thy charge* 
• Whatsoerer may do g6od> may-4ilso do- hann. 
Beware that thou direct her course to virtue. 

Think not that thou canst lose her in the crowd; 
suppose not that thou canst bury her in thy closet. 
Action is her delight, and she will not be withheld 
from it. 



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282 THE ECOKOMY 

Her motion is perpetual; her attempts are 
universal; her a^lity is not to be suppressed. Is 
it at the uttermost parts of the earth ; she will have 
it t is it beyond the region of the stars^ yet will her 
eye discover it. 

Inquiry is her delight. As one who' traverseth 
the burning sands in search of water, so is the soul 
that searcheth after knowledge. 

Guard her, for she is rash ; restrain her, for shd is 
is irregular ; correct her, for she is outrageous; more 
supple is she than water,more flexible than wax,more 
yielding than air. Is there aught can bind hert 

As a sword in the hand of a madman, even so is 
the soul to him who wanteth dincretion. 

The end of her search is truth ; her means to dis- 
cover it are reason and experience. But are not 
these weak, uncertain, and fallacious ? How then 
shall she attain unto it ? 

General opinion is no proof of truth, for the 
generality of men are ignorant. 

Perceivest thou of thyself, the knowledge of him 
who created thee, the sense of the worship thou 
owest unto him? are not these plain before thy 
face? And behold ! what is there more that man 
needeth to know? 

OP THE PERIOD AND USES OP HUMAN LIFE. 

As the eye of morning to the lark, as the shade of 
evening to the owl, as honey to the bee, or as the 
carcase to the vulture ; even such is life unto the 
heart of man. 

Thongh bright, itdazzleth not; though obscure* 
it displeaseth not; though sweet, it cloyeth not ; 
thongh corrupt, it forbiddeth not; yet who is hethat 
knoweth its true value ? 

Learn to esteem life as it ought ; then ait thon 
near the pixmade of wisdom. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 983 

Think not with the fool^ that nothing is more 

valuable; nor believe with the pretended wiae> that 

thou oughtegt to contemn it. Love it not for itself, 

but for the good it may be of to others. . 

Gold cannot buy it for thee, neither can minto 
of diamonds purchase back the moments thou hast 
now lostof it. Employ the succeeding ones in virtue. 

Say not^ that it were best not to have been bom ; ' 
or if bom, that it hiidbeen best to die early: nei- 
ther dare thou to ask of thy Creator, * Where had 
been the evil if I had not existed ? Good is in thy 
power ; the want of good is evil \ and if the ques- 
tion be Just; lo! it condemneth thee. 

Would the fish swallow the bait if he knew the 
hook was hidden therein? would the lion enter the 
toils if he saw they were prepared for him? sO 
neither, wei^ the soul to perish with this clay> 
would man wish to live ; neither would a mercifol 
Gk>d have created him : know hence thou shall live 
afterward. 

ils the bird is inclosed in the cage before he 
seeth it, yet teareth not his flesh against its sides; 
so neither labour thou vainly to run from the state 
thou art in ; but know it is allotted thee, and be 
content with it. 

Though ito ways are uneven, yet are they not all 
painful. Accommodate thyself to all; and where 
there is least appearance of evil, suspect the gi'eat- 
est danger. 

When thy bed is straw, thou sleepest in security ; 
but when thou stretchest thyself on roses, beware 
of the thorns. 

A good death is better than an evil life; strive 

therefore to live as long as thou oughtest ; while 

thy life is to others worth more than thy death, it 

it is thy duty to preserve it. 

Complain not with the fool of the shortness of 



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284. THE ECONOMY 

thy tiimi : remember that ^th thy days, thy cares 
are shortened. 

Take from the period of thy life the useless parts 
of it, and what remaineth? Take off the time of 
thine infancy, the second infancy of age, thy sleep, 
thy thoughtless hours, thy days, of sickness: and 
eveii at the fulness of years how few seasons hast 
thou truly numbered. 

He who gave thee life as a blessing, Bhortene«f 
it to make it mote so. To what end would longer 
lifd have served thee ? Wishest thou to have had 
an opportunity of more viceit As to the good, 
will not he who limited thy span, be satisfied with 
the fruits of it. 

To what- end, O child of sonow! wouldst tb<m 
live longer; to breathe, to eat, to see the worliiT 
All this thou hast done toffeeu abeady. Too ^- 
^ent repetition, is it not tireftonte T or is it Hot 
superflubust 

Wouldst thou improve thy wisdom and thy 
virtue ? Alas \ what art thou to knoir? or who Is it 
that shall teach thee? Badly thou employest' the 
litUe that thou hast, dariB nojt> therefore, to com- 
plain that more is not given thee. 

Repine not at the want of knowledge;, it wnsl 
peiish • with thee in «he gaave» Be honest hete, 
and thou shalt be wise hereafter. 

Say not unto the c|;pw. Why numberest thott 
seven times the age of thy lord ? or to the fawn, 
why are thine eyeft to see my ofGqpfring to an hun- 
dred -geftieratioas? Are these to be compared with 
thee in the abuse of life? are they riotou»? are th^ 
craelf -are' fhey ungrateful t Learn from them 
rather, that innocence of life and si^iplicity of 
maimers are the paths to a good old age. 

Knowest thou to employ life better than these t 
then less of it may suffice thee. 



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OP HUMAN LIFE. 286 

Mah who . dares enslave the world when he 
kliows he can enjoy his^ tyranny but a mouent, 
what would he not aim at if he were immortal? 

Enough hast thou of life> but thou regardest it 
not : thou art not in want of it^ O man ! but thou 
art prodigal : thou throwest it lightly away, as if 
thou hadst more than enough ; and yet thou re- 
pii^tthat it is not gathered again, unto thee. 

Know that it it not abmidance which maketh 
rich, but economy. 

The wise continueth to live from his first period; 
the fool is always beginning. 

Labour not after riches first, and think thou 
afterwards wilt enjoy them. He who neglecteth 
the present moment, throweth away all h^ hath* 
As the arrow passeth through the heart, while the 
warrior knew not that it was coming ; so shall his 
life be taken away before he knoweth that he 
hath it. 

What then is life, that man should desire it? 
what breathing, that he should covet it? 

is it not a scene of delusion, a series of misad^ 
Ventures, a pursuit of evils linked on all sides 
together ? In the beginning it is ignorance, pain is 
in its middle, and its end is sorrow. 

As one wavepusheth on another till both are in- 
volved in that behind them, even so succeedeth 
evil to evil in the life of man ; the greater and the 
present swallow up the lesser and the past. Our 
terrors are real evils : our expectations look for- 
ward into improbabilities. 

Fools, to dread as mortals, and to desire as if 
immortal ! 

It is said, gray hairs are revered, and in length 
of days is honour. Virtue can add reverence to 
the bloom of youth; and without it age plants 
more wrinkles in the soul than on the forehead* 

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286 THE ECONOMY 

Is age respected because it hateth riot? What 
justice is in this, when it is not age that despiaeth 
pleasure, but pleasure that despiseth age. 

Be virtaous while thou art young, so shall thine 
age be honoured. 



MAN CONSIDERED IN REGARD TO HIS 
INFIRMITIES, AND THEIR EFFECTS. 



Inconstancy is powerful in the heart of man ; 
intemperance swayeth it whither it will; despair 
engrosseth much of it ; and fear proclaimeth. Be- 
hold, I sit unrivalled therein ! but vanity is beyond 
them all. 

Weep not therefore at the calamities of the 
human state; rather laugh at iU follies. In the 
hands of the man addicted to vanity, life is but 
the shadow of a dream. 

The hero, the most renowned of human charac- 
ters, what is he but the bubble of this weakness ! 
The public is unstable and ungrateful ; why shonld 
the man of wisdom endanger himself for fools? 

The man who neglecteth his present concexns, 
to revolve l»ow he will behave when greater, 
feedeth himself with wind, while his bread is 
eaten by another. 

Act as becometh thee in thy present station; 
and in more exalted ones thy face shall not be 
ashamed. 

What blindeth the eye, or what hideth the heart 
of a man from himself, like vanity? Lo ! when 
thou seest not thyself, then others discover thee 
most plainly. 

4j the tulip that is gaudy without smelly con* 



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OF HUMAN LIFB. 887 

Bpicnoufl without use ; so is the man who letteth 
himself up on high, and hath not merit. 

The heart of the vain is troubled while itseem- 
eth content ; his cares are greater than his pleasures. 

His solicitude cannot rest with his bones; the 
grave is not deep enough to hide it; he extendeth 
his thoughts beyond his being: he bespeaketh 
praise to be paid when he is gone: bat whoso pro* 
miseth it, deceiveth him. 

As the man that engageth his wife to remain in 
widowhood, that she disturb not his soul ; so is he 
who expecteth that praise shall reach his ears be- 
neath the earth, or cherish his heart in its shroud. 

Do well while thou livest; but regard not what 
is said of it. Content thyself with deserving praise, 
and thy posterity shall rejoice in hearing it. 

As the butterBy, who seeth not her own colours ; 
as the jessamine which feeleth not the scent it 
casteth around : so is the man who appeareth gay, 
and biddeth others to take note of it. 

To what purpose, said he, is my vesture of gold ? 
to what eitd are my tables filled with dainties, if no 
eye gaze upon them ; if the world know it not ? 
Give thy raiment to the naked, and thy food unto 
the hungry; so shalt thou be praised, and feel that 
thou deservest it. 

Why bestowest thou on every man the flattery of 
unmeaning words ? Thou knowest when retuxned 
thee, thou regardest it not. He knoweth he lieth 
unto thee ; yet he knoweth thou wilt thank him« 
for it. Speak in sincerity, and thou shalt hear with 
instruction. 

The vain delighteth to speak of himself; but he 
seeth not that others like not to hear him. 

If we have done any thing worth praise, if he 
possess that which is worthy of admiration, his joy 
is to proclaim it, his pride is to hear it reported 

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S88 "tHE SCOKpBlY 

The desire of such a man defeateth hself. Men 
say not. Behold,. he liftifti>4one it: or. Sec, he 
possesseth it : but, MaA how proud he is of it. 
' The heart of man cannot attend at once to many 
things. He who iixeth his spnl oq show, loseth 
Mality. He pursueth bubbles which soon breajc^ 
whila. he treads to . eajrth what would .do. him 
honour* 

INCONSTANXnr. 

Nature uxgeth lihee to inconstancy, O man! 
therefore guard thyself at all times against it. 

Thou art from the womb of thy mother various 
and wavering. From the loins of thy father in* 
heritest thou instebility; how then jhalt thou be 
firm? 

Those who gave thee a body, furnished it with 
weakness } but he who gave thee a souJ, armed 
thee with resolution. Employ it, and thou art 
wise ; be wise, and thou art happy. 

Let him who doeth well, beware how he boasteth 
of it. 

Beware of irresolution in the intent of thy actions; 
beware of instability in the execution; so shalt 
thou triumph over two great failings, of thy natqxe. 

What reproacheth reason more than to act con- 
traiietaes? What can suppress the tendencies to 
these,but firmness of mind t 

The inconstant .feeleth that he changeth, but he 
^noweth not why; he seeth that he es<;apeth frcov 
himself,. but he peiceivethnotiiow. Be thou in- 
capable of change in that which is right, and men 
Will rely upon thee. 

Establish unto thyself pnnciples of action, and 
see that ihou ever act according to thenu: 

First Icnow that thy principles afe just, and then 
be thoii inflexible, in the path of them. 

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OF HUMAN LIFE. 289 

How dkould lu8 actions be right who hath no role 
of life? Nothing can be just which proceedcth 
not from reason. 

The inconstant hath no peace in his sonl; nei- 
ther can any be at ease whom he concemeth him* 
self with. 

His life is unequal ; his motions are irregular; 
his mind changeth with the weather. 

ToKlay he loveth thee, to-morrow thon art de- 
tested by him: and why? himself knoweth not 
wherefore he loved, or wherefore he now hateth. 

To-day he is the tyrant; to-morrow thy servant 
18 less humble : and why? he who is arrogant with- 
out power, will be servile where there is no subjec- 
tion. 

To-day he is profuse^ to-morrow he grudgeth 
nnto his mouth that which it should eat. Thus it 
is with him who Imoweth not moderation. 

Who shall say of the chamelion. He is black, 
when the moment after, the verdure of the grass 
overspreadeth him! 

Who shall say of the inconstant. He is joyfal, 
when his next breath shall be spent in sighing? 

What is the life of such a man but the phantom 
of a dream? In the morning he xiseth happy, at 
noon he is on the rack; this hour he is a god, the 
next below a worm ; one moment he laugheth, the 
next he weepeUx ; he now willeth, in an instant he 
willeth not, and in another he knoweth not whe- 
ther he willeth or no. 

Yet neither ease nor pain have fixed themselves 
on him; neither is he waxed greater, nor become 
less ; neither hath he had cause for laughter^ nor 
reason for his sorrow : therefore shall none of them 
abide with him. 

The happiness of the inconstant is as a palace 
O 



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290 TB£ BCONOMT 

bmlt oa like stfrfaite of tke ftand: tlie bl<ywmg of 
the wind tarried away its foondstiea; whitt iN>n« 
der then that it falleth ? 

But what exalted fonn is this, that hitJrerwtfds 
difcwts its even, its imintemipted course? whosfe 
foot 18 on the earth, whose head is abov^e the 
clondst 

On his brow sittetk m%)esty ; steadiness is fm MA 
port ; and in his heart reignetk Omnqli^^* 

Though obstaeles appear in Ihe way, he deigaeth 
not to look down upon tbein> though heaven and 
earth oppose his passage^ he proeeedeth* 

The mountains sink beneath his tread; Che 
waters of the ooom are dried up under the sole of 
his foot. 

The tiger throweth himself acress his way in 
vain; the spots of the leopard glow against Iniii 
unregarded. 

He mardheth through the embatlled legions; 
with his hand he putteth aside the tenors of dealls. 

Storms roar against his shoulders, but are not 
able to shake them; the thunder bursteth over his 
head in vtfin; the lightnings serveth but to shew 
the glories of his countenance. 

His name is Resolution ! He cometh froto the 
utmost parts of the earth ; he see(h happiness wSaa 
off before hiku; his eye discoveteth her tMiple 
beyond the limits of the pole. 

He walketh up to it, he entereth boldly, and he 
remaineth there for ever. 

Establi^ thy heart, O man ! in thAt which is 
right; and then know the greatest of hunum pmiae 
is to be immutable. 

WEAKNESS. 

Vain and inconstant as thou art, O child of ihh 
peirfection ! how canst then but be weak t is not in- 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 29t 

r MBBeeted with finiltf ? Can then ht 
Tanity without infirmity? aroid the danger of the 
aikd thou shalt eacape the miflchiefs of the 



Wheieiii ait thoa most weak? in that wherein 
thoa aeemeit most strong ; in that wherein thou 
meet gkxriest : even in possessing the things which 
thou hast: in using the good that is ahout thee. 

Are not thy desires also frail t or hnowest thou 
even what it is thou wonldst wish? When thou 
hast obtained what most thou soughtest alter, be- 
hold it contenteth thee not. 

Wherefore loseth the pleasure that is before thee 
its relish? and why appeareth that which is yet to 
come the sweeter? Because thou art wearied with 
the good of this, because thou knowest not the 
evil of that which is not with thee. Know that to 
be content is to be happy. 

Conldst thou «hoose for thyself, would thy Cre»> 
tor lay before thee all that thine heart could aak 
for? would happiness then remain with thee? or 
would joy dwell always in thy gates? 

Alas ! thy weakness forbiddeth it ; thy infirmity 
declareth against it. Variety is to thee in the place 
of pleasure ; but that which permanently delighteth 
must be permanent. 

When it is gone^ thou vepentest the loss of it, 
though, while it was with thee, thou despisest it. 

That which succeedeth it, hath nomore pleasure 
for thee : and thou afterwards quaivellest with thy* 
self for preferring it; behold the only circumstance 
in which thou errest not ! 

Is there any thing in which thy weakness appear- 
eth more than in desiring things ! It is in th^ pos- 
sessing, and in the using them. 

Good thixiga cease to be good in onr eiuoy^^Wl 
of them. What nature meant pure sweets, are 



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m tHB BCOKOMY 

sources of bitterness to us ; from our delights arisft 
pain> from our joys, sorrow. 

Be moderate in the enjoyment, and it shall ze- 
main in thy possession ; let thy joy be founded on 
reason ; and to its end shall sorrow be a strai^r. 

The delights of love are ushered in by sighs, 
and they terminate in langnishment and dejection. 

The object thou bumest for, nauseates with sa- 
tiety ; and no sooner hast thou possessed it, but thou 
art weary of its presence. 

Join esteem to thy admiration, unite friendship 
with thy love : so shalt thou find in the end, content 
so absolute, that it surpasseth raptures ; tranquillity 
is more worth than extasy. 

Grod hath given thee no good without its admix* 
tnre of evil; but he hath given thee also the means 
of throwing off the evil from ift 

As joy is not without the alloy of pain, so neither 
is sorrow without its portion of pleasure. Joy and 
grief, though unlike, are united. Our own choice 
only can give them us entire. 

Melancholy itself often giveth delight, and the 
extremity of joy is mingled with tears. 

The best things in the hands of a fool may be 
turned to his destruction; and out of the worst the 
wise will find the means of good. 

So blended is weakness in thy nature, O man; 
that thou hast not strength either to be good, or 
to be evil entirely. Rejoice that thou canst not 
excel iu evil, and let the good that is within thy 
reaeh content thee. 

The virtues are allotted to various stations. Seek 
not after impossibilities, nor grieve that thou canst 
not possess them at all. 

Wouldst thou at once have the liberality o£ 
the rich and the contentment of the poor? or 



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OF HUMA'K LIFfi. 29d 

fcball the wife of thy bosom be despised, because 
ihe sheweth not the virtues of the widow ? 

If thy father sinks before thee in the division of 
thy country, can at once thy justice destroy him, and 
thy duty save his life? 
. If thou beholdest thy brother in the agonies ol 
a slow death, is it not mercy to put a period to his 
life ; and is it not also death to be his murderer? 

Troth is but one; thy doubts are of thine own 
raising. He who made virtues what they are, 
planted also in thee a knowledge of their pre- 



OF THE INSUFFICIENCY OP KNOWLEDGE. 

If there is any thing lovely, if there is any thing 
ilesirable, if there is any thing within the reach of 
man that is worthy of praise, is it not knowledge? 
«nd yet who is he that attaineth unto it 7 

The statesman proclaimeth that he hath it; 
4he ruler of the people daimeth the praise of it ; 
hat findeth the subject that he possesseth it ? 

Evil is not requisite to man ; neither can vice be 
necessary to be tolerated : yet hpw many evils are 
permitted by the connivance of the laws ? how many 
^■^imes committed by the decrees of the council? 

But be wise, O ruler ! and learn, O thou that art 
to command the nations ! One crime authorized 
by thee, is worse than the escape of ten £rom 
punishment. 

When thy people are numerous, when thy sdns 
increase about thy table; sendest thou them not 
out to slay the innocent, and to fall before the sword 
of hint whom they have not offended 7 

If the object of thy desires demandeththe lives of 
a thousand, sayest ^otinot, I will have it ? Surely 
thon f orgettest that he who created thee, created 
also these : and that their blood is as rich as thiae^ 



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SM THE ECONOMY 

Sayeftt thou^ that justice dtimot be efceevled 



without Wioiigt lorelj tldne ow& iroxdf < 
fliee. 

Thou who fltttenet witfi f alie hopes itht cmni« 
nal> that he may confess his guilt; art not thou thbIo 
Itim a erimiiud? or isthy gv3t the Itm, because he 
cannot punish it? 

Whenthoa ooumAndest to the tartme him wbo 
is bnt sospeeted of ill, daMstdioa to lemember, that 
then mayest nek the innoeentt 

Is thy purpose answered by the event ? is thy soil 
satisfied with his confession? Pain wiH nlMne 
him to say what is not, as easy as what is ; and 
angdsh hath eaused hmoeenee to aeeose herself. 

That thou mayest not kill him without caue, 
thou dost worse than kill him : that thon mayest 
prove if he be guilty, thou dedtroytthhrni innoeent. 

O blindness to all truth! insuffioiaKy of tbe 
wisdom of the wiie ! Knetr when thy Judge shall 
bid thee account for this, thoushalt wish ten thev" 
sand guilty to have gone free, ratherl&aa one vom- 
cent then to stand forth against thee* 

Insufiicient as thou art to the maintenance of jus- 
tice, hew shalt thou arrive at the knowledge of 
truth? how shalt thou aseeBd>to the footstep of hir 
throne? 

As the owl is blinded by ihe radiance of the si*, 
so shall the brightness of her countenance dtsde 
thee in thy approaches. 

If thou wouldst mount up into her threae, first 
bow Uiyself at her footstool: If thou wouldst aiiive aft 
the knowledge of her, fiiat inlmni thyself of tfaiae 
own ignorance. 

More worth is she than pearls, therefore seek lier 
carefully t the emerald, and the sapphiM, and the 
ruby, are as dirt beneath her feet i thcnfon pumoe 

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OP HUMAN LIFE. 295 

' Vhd way to her ii labour; attention U the pilot 
<lhat mutt oondvct thee into her ports. But weary 
not in the way ; for when thoa art arrived at her, the 
Jloil flhall be to diee lor pleasure. 

Say not unto thyself. Behold, trath breedeth 
hatred, and I will avoid it j dissimulation raiseth 
friends, and I will follow it. Are not the enemies 
made fay truth, better than the friends obtamed by 
battery? 

Naturally doth nan desire ihe truth, yet when 

it is before him, he will not apprehend it; and 

if it force itself upon him, is he not offended at it t 

The fault is not in truth, for that is funiable; but 

the weakness of man beajeth not itssplendonr* 

Wouldst thou see thine own xnsufficieney more 
fJlainly ? view thyself at thy devotions 1 1V> what 
end was religion instituted, but to teach thee thine 
ta&Hnities, to remind thee of thy weakness, to 
ahew thee that fmoa heaifen ahme thou art to hope 
for good? 

Doth it not remind thee that thou art dust? doth 
it not tell thee that thou art ashes? And behold 
repentance is not huilt on frailty! 

When thou givest on oath, when thou swearest 
thou wilt not deoeive ; behold it spveadeth shaase 
upon thy face, and upon the face of him that re- 
eaiveA it. Learn to be just, aqd repentance may 
be forgotten 9 leam to be honest, and oatha are un- 
necessary. ■ 

The shorter foUies axe, the better : say not there- 
fore to thyself, I will not play the fool by halves. 

He hath heaxeth his own faults with paUence, 
ahall reprove another with boldness. 

He that giveth a denial with reason, shall sn£Eer 
a npulse with moderation. 
. If thou ait auspected, .answer with freedom t 
avhoni should sospioioA affngh|, escept the fuilty ? 

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296 TBM ECONOMY 

Hie tender of heart is iun&ed firom his purpoee 
by supplicadons, the proud is rendered move otp- 
Btinate by entreaty : the sense of thine insufiBciency 
commandeth thee to hear ; bat to be just^ then mast 
hear without thy passions. 

MISERY. 

FEBBLfe and insufficient as thou art, man ! ia 
good ; £rail and inconstant as thou art in pleasare ; 
yet there is a thing which is the character of thy 
being, its name is Misery. And behold, whatis iu 
iooroe, but thine own passions ? 

He who gave thee these, gave thee also reason 
to subdue diem : exert it, and thou shalt trample 
them under thy feet. 

Custom cannot alter the nature of truth; neither 
can the opinion of men destroy justice. 

There is but one way for man to be produced s 
There are a thousand by which he may be de- 
stroyed. 

There is no praise, nor honour, to him who 
giveth being to another ; but triumphs and emfure 
are often the rewards of murder. 

Yet he who hath many children, hath as many 
blessings ; and he who hath taken away the life of 
another, shall not enjoy his own. 

While the savage corseth the birth of his son, and 
blesseth the death of his father^ doth he not call 
himself a monster ! 

Enough of evil is allotted unto man; but he 
maketh it more while he lamenteth it. 

The greatest of all human ills is sorrow ; too much 
of this thou art bom unto; add not unto it by thy 
own perverseness. 

Grief is natural to thee, and is always near thee ; 
|>Ieasure is a stranger, and visiteth thee but by 
limes; use ^U thy teaaon> and sorrow shall be 

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OF urns AS UVE. 297 

cast behind thee ; be prudent, and the yiiits piyoy 
.shall xemain long witih thee. « 

Every part of thy frame is capable of pain> but 
few are the paths that Uftd to delight. 

Pleasures can be admitted only dimply; but pains 
rush ia a thousand fit a tin^e. 

Afi the blaze of straw fadeth as soon as It is kin- 
41e4> so passeth away the biightneps of jpy, and thou 
knowest not what is become of it. 

Sorrow i^ frequent ; pleasure is rare ; pain com* 
eth of itself ; delight must be purchased ; grief is un- 
. mixed } but joy wanteth not its ^llay of bitterness. 
. As the soundest health is less perceived than the 
slightest malady, so the highest joy tQ\icheth us less 
deep than the sqiallest jiorrow. 

We are m love with aiiguijsh; we of^n fly from 
pleasure : when we purchase it, posteth it not more 
than it is worth? 

Reflection is the business of man : a sense of his 
state is his flrst duty \ but who remembereth him- 
self in joy ? Is it not in mercy then that sorrow is 
allotted unto us ? 

AlaQ foreseeth the evil that is to come; he re- 
membereth it when it is past : he considereth ^t 
that the thought of affliction wpun4eth deeper than 
the affliction itself. Th\Dk not pf thy pain, but 
when it is upon thee, and thou shalt avoid what 
most would hurt thee. 

He who weepeth before he needeth, weepeth wore 
Ihan h? needeth : 994 why, but that he is the child 
ofjfear. 

The stag weepeth 9ot ^1 the speax is lifted up 
agftinst him-, i|or do ^e tears of the beaver fall, 
till the hound is ready to seise him : xpan antici- 
IMilQfth daa^, by the apprehensions of it ; and the 
ter i» greater misery than the event itself. 
02 



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ddS TB£ ECONOMY 

Be always prepared to give an account of duntf 
actions ; and the best death ig that which ia least 
premeditated, 

OF JUDGMENT. 

The greatest bounties given to man^ are judgment 
and will; happy is he who misapplieth them not. 

As the torrent that roUeth down the mountains^ 
destroyeth all that is borne away by it; so doth 
common opinion overwhelm reason in him who 
anbmitteth to it^ without saying. What is ihy foun- 
dation? 

See that what thou receivest as truth be not the 
shadow of it ; what thou acknowledgest as con- 
vincing, is often but plausible. Be firm, be con- 
stant, determine for thyself; so shalt thou be an- 
swerable only for thine own weakness. 

Say not that the event proveth the wisdom of 
tke action : remember man is not above the reach 
of accidents. 

Condemn not the judgment of another, because 
it differeth from thine own ; may not even both be 
in an error? 

When thou esteemest a man for his titles, and 
contemnest the stranger because he wanteth them^ 
jndgest thou not of the camel by his bridle ? 

lliink not thou art revenged of thine enemy 
when thou slayest him : thou puttest him beyond 
thy reach, thou givest him quiet, and thou takes! 
^m thysdf all means of hurting him. 

Was thy mother incontinent, and grieveth it thee 
to be told of it 7 Is frailty in thy wife, and art thou 
pained at the approach of it? He who despiseth 
thee for it, condemneih himself; Art thou answer- 
able for the vices of another ? 

Bisregard not a jewel, because thou possessetft 
it ; neithi» enhance thou the value of a thing, be« 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 299 

^Qse it is anotlier's ; possession to the wise addeth 
ta the price of it. 

Honour not thy wife the les8> becanse she is in 
thy power ; and despise him that hath said> Wouldst 
thou love her less ? marry her I What hath pat her 
into thy power, but her confidence in thy virtue f 
Shooldst thou love her less for being more obliged 
to her 7 

If thoa wert just in thy courtship of her> though 
thou neglectest her while thou hast her, yet shall 
her loss be bitter to thy soul. 

He who thinketh another blest, only because he 
possesseth her ; if he be not wiser than thou, at least 
he is more happy. 

Weigh not the loss thy friend has suffered by the 
tears he sheddeth for it ; the greatest griefs are above 
tUbse expressions of them. 

Esteem net an action because it is done with 
noise and pomp; the noblest soul is that which 
doeth great things, and is not moved in the doing 
of them. 

Fame aatonisheth the ear of him who heareCh 
it; but tranquillity rejoiceth the heart that is pos- 
sessed of it. 

Attribute not the good actions of another to bad 
causes: thou canst not know his heart; but the 
world will know by this> that thine is fall of envy. 

There is not in hypocrisy more vice than folly ; to 
be honest is as easy as to seem so. 

Be mow ready to acknowledge a benefit than to 
revenge an injury; so shalt thou have more bene* 
fits than injuries done unto thee. 

Be more ready to love than to hate ; so shalt thou 
be loved by more than hate thee. 

Be willing to commend, and be slow to censure ; 
so shall praise be upon thy virtues, and the eye of 
enmity shall be blixid to thy imperfections. 



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a» THE ECOKOM Y 

Wben dum docat go0d« dvitbeanMe kkgood^ 
not becanflemcn esteem it : when ibon^mnmAeAewii, 
§tj it bec«Me it isenl; not becMue nun wftaik 

■hakbe nniiDaily tor hedMt docA itwitlMrat ]Riii- 



Wirii Mflwr to be i g ytwed by llie «iie, tkam t» 
be applauded bj him who hath no nndenrtandifig ; 
when they teU thee of afiralt, they Mpporie Ihon 
canst improve ; tiie other, when he pniakh Ate, 
thinketh thee like nntohitt^lf. 

Acee|A not an office for which Aou art not qna- 

Hded, lest he who knoweth more of it despise thee. 

Instinct not another in that wherehi thyself 

art ignorant ; when he seeth it, ho win iqpbnid 

thee. 

Expect not a friendship with him who hath m- 
jnred thee ; he who inffereth the wtotig, may for- 
give it i but he who doeth it, never wiU be well witih 
hinu 

Lay not too great obligations on him thoa wishMt 
to be thy fiiend ; behold ! tjie sense 6f them will 
drive him from thee ; a little benefit gaineth friend- 
ship ; a great one ma^eth an enemy. 

Keveiiheless, ingratitade is not in the nature of 
man; neither is his anger irreconeileable: he hatedi 
to be pnt in miiid of ii debt he cannot pay; hb fs 
ashamed in the presence of him whom he hatfr in- 
jured. 

Itepine not at the good of a stratiger; neithto re- 
joice thon in the evil that befklleth thine enetny : 
wishest thou that others should do thus by thee ? 

Wottldst thou enjoy the good-will of all men, let 
thine own benevoleiiee hb universal. If thou ob- 
tainett it not by these, no other means could give it 
thee ; and know, though thou hast it not, thou hatt 
the grealvr pleasure of having merited it. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 8(H 

PRE8U*PtI0N. 

P&IDE and meanneM Beem incompatible; but 
HitA'reconcilethcontrarietieB; heis at once the most 
misteable and the moet anogant of all creatuxes. 

Piresomption ia the bane of reason ; it is the 
nurse of error ; yet it is congenial with reason in us. 

Who is there that judgeth not either too highly 
erf himself > or thinketh too meanly of others ? 

Our Creator himself escapeth not our presump- 
tion ; how then shall we be safe from one another t 

What is the ori^n of superstition? and whence 
ariseth false worship ? from our presuming to rea- 
son about what is above our reach, to con^irehend 
what is incomprehensible. 

Limited and weak as our understandings are^ we 
employ not even their little forces as we ought. 
We soar not high enough in our approaches to 
God's greatness ; we give not wing enough to our 
ideaftj when we enter into the adoration of divinity. 

Man who fears to breathe a whisper against his 
earthly sovereign, trembles not to arraign the dis- 
pciksattons of his Qodi he foigetteth his miyesty, 
and T^udgeth his judgments. 

He who dareth not repeat the nune of his prince 
without honour, yet blasheth not to call that of his 
Oteator lo be witness to a lie. 

He who would hear the sentence of the mi^is- 
trate with silence, yet dareth to plead with the 
Btemal; he attempeth to soothe him with entreaties, 
to flatter him ^ith promises, to fl^ee with hia 
upon conditions : nay, to brave and murmur at him 
if his request be not granted* 

Why art thou unpunished, O man I in thy im- 
l^ety, but that this is not thy day ^ retribtttion» 

JeBBtWee onto ihMe who %ht withUie thunder; 
neither due th<m to denylby CwatwKJ^I 



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^ *rUE ECONOMY 

becaoae he diastiseth thee. Thy madness in this 
is on thine own head ; thy impiety hurteth no one 
hat thyself. 

Why boasteth man that he is the fayonrite of hi* 
Maker, yet neglecteth to pay his thanks and hit 
adoxations for it? How soiteth such a life with a 
belief so haughty? 

Man, who is truly but a mote in the wide expanse, 
believeth the whole earth and heaven to be created 
for him : he thinketh the whole frame of nature hath 
interest in his well being. 

As the fool, while the images tremble on the boeom 
of the water, thinketh that trees, towns, and the 
wide horizon, are dancing to do him pleasure ; so 
man, while nature performs her destined course, 
believes that all her motions are but to entertain 
his eye. 

While he courts the rays of the sun to warm him, 
he suppoeeth it made only to be of use to him; 
while he traceth the moon in her nightly path, be 
believeth that she was created only to do him plea- 
sure. 

Fool to thine own pride ! be humble ! know thou 
art not the cause why the world holdeth its course; 
for thee are not made the vidssitudes of summer 
and winter. 

No change would follow if thy whole race existed 
not ; thou art but one among millions that are bless- 
ed in it. 

Bxalt not thyself to the heavens; for, lo, the angels 
are above thee : nor disdain thy fellow-inhabitants 
of the earth, though they are inferior to thee. Are 
^ey not the work of the same hand ? 

Thou who art happy by the mercy of thy Creator, 
how darest th«a in wantonness put others of hia 
creatures to toftore? Beware that cruelty return 
not uDon thee. 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 803 

Serve they not all the same anivenal Master 
with thee ? Hath he not appointed unto each its 
laws ? Hath he not care of their preservation 7 and 
darestthou to infringe it? 

Set not thy judgment above that of all the earth ; 
neither condemn as falsehood what agreeth not 
with thine own apprehension. Who gave thee the 
the power of determining for others ? or who took 
^m the world the right of choice ? 

How many things have been rejected, whjch' are 
now received as truths ? How many now received 
as truths, shall in their turn be despised? 

Of what then can man be certain? 

Do the good that thou knowest, and happiness 
shall be unto thee. Virtue is more thy business 
here than wisdom. 

Truth and falsehood, have they not the same ap- 
pearance in what we understand not? what then 
but our presumption can determine between them ? 

We easily believe what is above our comprehen- 
sion; or we are proud to pretend it, that it may ap- 
pear we understand it. Is not this folly and arro- 
gance? 

Who is he that affirms most boldly? who is he 
that holds his opinion most obstinately? Even be 
who hath most ignorance, for he also hath most 
pride. 

Every man, when he layeth hold of an opinion, 
desireth to remain in it ; but most of all he who hath 
most presumption. He contenteth not himself to 
betray his own soul : butUe will impose on others 
to believe in it also. 

Say not that truth is established by years, or 
that in a multitude of believers there is certainty.' 

One human proposition hath as much authorit;^ 
as another, if reason malteth not the diflference^ 



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3(M TflBBCOKOMY 

OP THE AFFECTIONS OF MAN, WHICH 

AEB HURTFUL TO HIMSELF AND 

OTHERS. 

COVETOUSNESS. 

Riches are not worthy a f(trong atteniion : there- 
fore au earnest care of obtaining them is myosti- 
fiable. 

The desire ni what man calleth good, the joy he 
taketh in possessing it, is grounded only in opinion. 
Form not thy opinion from the vulgar ; examine the 
worth of things thyielf, and thou shalt not be qo- 
^vetous. 

An immoderate desire of riehes is a -poison 
lodged in the sonl. It contaminates and destroys 
every thing that was good in it. It is no sooner 
rooted there, than all virtue, all honesty, all na- 
tural affection, fly before the face of iU 

The covetous would sell his children for gold ; 
his parent might die ere he would open his coffer ; 
nay, he considereth not himself in respect of it. 
In the search of happiness he maketh himself un- 
happy. 

As the man who selleth his house to pmchsse 
ornaments for the embellislunent of it, even so is 
he who giveth up peace in the search of riches, in 
hope that he may be happy in enjoying them. 

Where covetousness reigneth, know that the eonl 
is poor. Whoso accounteth riohes the pvinaipal 
good of man, will throw away all other goods in the 
pursuit of them. 

Whoso feareth poverty as the greatest evil of his 
nature, will purchase to himself all other evils in the 
avoiding of it. 

Thou fool, ia not virtue more worth than rieke*^ 
w not guilt more base than poverty? Enough for 

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OP HUMAN LIFE. 30S 

^8 xiec688itiefl U in the power of every man ; be con« 
tent with it, and thy happiness shall smile at the 
sorrows of him who heapeth up more. 

Nature hath hidden gold beneath the earth^as if 
nnworthy to be seen; silver hath she placed where 
thou tramplest it under thy feet. Meaneth she not 
by this to inform thee, that gold is not worthy thy 
regard, that silver is beneath thy notice ? 

Covetottsness burieth under die ground millions 
of wretches ; these dig for their hard masters what 
retumeih the injury ; what maketh them more mi- 
serable than their slaves. 

The earth is barren of good things where she 
hoardeth up treasure : where gold is in her bowels, ' 
there no herb groweth. 

As the horse findeth not there his grass, nor the 
mule hia provender; as the fields of com laugh not 
on the sides of the hills; as the olive holdeth not 
forth there her fruits, nor the vine her clusters ; even 
«o no good dwelleth in the breast of him whose heart 
broodeth over his treasure. 

Riches are servante to the wise; but they are 
tyrants over the soul of the fool. 

The covetous serveth his gold ; it serveth not him. 
He possesseth his wealth as the sick doth a fever ; 
it bumeth and tprtuietl^him, and will not quit him 
until death. 

Hath not gold destroyed the virtue of millions? 
Bid it ever add to the goodness of any ? 

Is it not most abundant with the worst of men? 
wherefore then shoukist thou desire to be distin- 
guished by possessing it? 

Have not the wisest been those who have had 
least of it? and is not wisdom happiness? 

Have not the worst of thy species possessed the 
greatest portions of it ? and hath not their end been 
miserable ? 

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906 ' THB ECONOKY 

PoTerty wantoifc msBj thiags ; bat coraowiiMt 
deniethitielfai]. 

The GOvetoM eanbe good to bo maa; but lie ieto 
H fffMi so cvoel M to hims^. 

If thon wtindoitDOvs to proenie gold, be gcne- 
ioasinthe<liapo8al<tfit. Man never ib ao happgr 
•a wben be gnreth bappinesa to anotber. 
PROrOftlON, 

If tbeiebea vice greater tban tbe boaiding up 
tif Bchea^it is the employment of them to naeleaa 



He that prodigally lavidieth tbat wbkb be balb 
to apue, robbetb the poor of what nature giveth 
tbem ft right tinto. 

He who squandereth away hia treaaoe^ lefaaetb 
the meana to do good: be denietfa himself the pvac 
tiee of viztoes whoae reward iain their hand, whoee 
end ia no other than his own happinem. 

Itiaaunre difficult to be wdl witb xiebea, timn 
to be at eaae under Ae want of them. Man «»• 
vemeth himself mucb easier in poverty than in 



Poverty requirethbutone viitoe, patieBce toaap- 
port it; the rich if behave noteharity, tempennce, 
pmdence, and many more^ is guilty. 
. The poor hath only the good of bis own ataie 
committed unto him ; the rich is intrusted with the 
wdf axe of t h o u Bands. 

He that givedi away hia treaaure wisely, givelb 
nwny bis pLaguea : be that zetaineth their increase, 
heapeth up soiwws. 

Raiose not unto the stranger that vhidbi be 
wUitetb; deny not unto tfay brother even ihat 
which thou wanteat thyaelf . 

Know there is more deligbt in being witbont wba t 
tbou bast given, than in possessing milUona which 
thou knowest not the use of. 

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OF HtTMAN LIFE. 907 

aEVBNGE. 

Thx tootof fsvenge it ia the weakuMi M tke 
Mvl: <h« iMMrt Afegect aad tanoroui are the aMl 
addicted to it. 

Who torture those they hate> or iii de f i he ee they 
fOb,batcoi»»rdst 

The feeling of an iajuy^ met be pfeviens to the 
wrengiiig of it; bat the noble mind disdainedi to 
taj^IChnrtBue. 

- If the injury is not beIowthynotSoe»he that doeth 
ft nnto thee, in that, maketh himielf so : Woaldst 
then enter the lists with thine inferior? 

Disdain the man who attempteth to wrong fhee; 
eontemn him who would give thee disijulet. 

In this thou not only picserre st thine own peaee, 
tfut thou intietest all the punishment of rerenge^ 
without stooping to employ it against him. 

As the tempest and the thunder affect not l3iesun 
or the sttts> but spend their fury on stones and 
trees below : so injuries ascend not to the souk ef 
die gKat, but waste thenuMlTes on such as are diose 
^n^o offer them* 

' Pooness of spiritwiU aclnate revenge ; greatness 
of soul despiseth the offence; nay, it doeth good 
«nto him who intended to have disturbed it. 

Why seekest thon vengeance, O man! with what 
fttvposelaitthatAoapursnestit? Thinkestthon 
to pain thine adversary by itt Know that thTsetf 
feelest its greatest torments* 

Revenge gnaweth the heart of him who is infect- 
ed wi& it, while he against whom it is intended, 
remEafneth easy* 

It is unjust in the -angtosh it inflicts ;' therefiose 

tuitttxe intended it not for thee : needeth'he who 

is injured more pain? or ought he to add fooe 

to the affliction which another lias east upon him? 

The -man who meditateth levenge Is not cont<»' 

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308 THE ECONOMY 

with the mischief he hath received ; he addeth to 
his anguish the punishment due unto another: 
while he whom he seeketh to hurt, goeth his way 
laughing; he maketh himself meny atthis addition 
to his misery. 

Revenge is painful in the intent, and it is dan- 
gerous in the execution : seldom doth the axe fall 
where he who lifted it up intended ; and, lo, he xe- 
pnembereth not that it must recoil against himself. 

While the revengeful seeketh his enemy's hurt, 
he oftentimes procureth his own destruction : white 
he aimeth at one of the eyes of his adversary, lo> he 
putteth out both his own. 

If he attain not his end, he lamenteth it; if he 
succeed, herepenteth of it: the fear of justice taketh 
away the peace of his own soul ; the care to hid€ 
him from it, destroyeth that of his friend* 

Can the death of thine adversary satiate tihy 
hatred? can the setting him at rest restore thy 
peace? 

Wouldst thou make him sorry for his ofTencei 
conquer him and spare &im : in death he owneth 
not thy superiority; nor feeleth he more the powei' 
of thy wrath. 

In revenge there should be a triumph of the 
avenger; and he who hath injured him, should feel 
his displeasure; he should suffer pain from it, and 
should repent him of the cause. 

This is the revenge inspired from anger ; but ^t 
which makes thee great, is contempt. 

Murder for an injury ariseth only from coward* 
ice : he who inflicteth it, feareth that the enemy 
mtkj live and avenge himself. 

Dealih endeth the quarrel; but it restorethnot 
the reputation. 

There is nothing so easy as to revenge a^ offence^ 
^ut nothing is go honourable as to pardon it. 



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07 fitTMAN LW% m 

The greatest victoxy man can obtain, is over him- 
self: hethatdisdaineth to feel an injury^ retorteth 
it upon him who offereth it. 

When thou meditatest revenge, thou confessest 
that thou feelest the wrong; when thou complainest^ 
thou acknowledgest thyself hurt by it : meant thou 
to add this triumph to the pride of thine enemy ? 

That cannot be an injury which is not felt; how 
then can he who despjseth it revenge it? 

If thou think it dishonourable to bear offence^ 
more is in thy power ; thou mayest conquer it. 

Good offices will make a man ashamed to be 
thine enemy : greatness of soul will terrify him from 
the thought of hurting thee. 

The greater the wrong, the more glory there is 
in pardoning it; and by how much more justifiable 
would be revenge^ by so much the moxe honour is 
in clemency. 

Hast thou a r^htto be a judge in thine own cause ; 
to be party in the act, and yet to pronounce sen- 
tence on it? Before thou condemnest^ let another 
say it is just. 

The revengeful is feared, and therefore he is 
hated ; but he that is endued with clemency, is 
adored: the praise of his actions remaineth for 
ever; and the love of the world attendeth him. 

CRUELTY, HATRED^ AND ENVY. 

Revenge is detestable : what then is cruelty? 
Lo, it possesseth the mischiefs of the other ; but it 
wanteth even the pretence of its provocations. 

Men disown it as not of their nature; they are 
ashamed of it as a stranger to their hearts : do they 
not call it inhumanity ? 

Whence then is her origin? unto what that is 
human oweth she her existence? Her father ia 
Fear; and behold Dismay^ is it not her mother? 



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Ihmham 

ifcei 

faeiftiatiiiied. 

It if aot A boAMT to tm^ie 4 
fe«eA : it if Mt im Yiitee to iMiik wb«t i 
its MUae tlie im<ilwf, and fpam the 
and tboB Mt aft the brif^ of victoiy. 

fie iHie wutelh 'mtae to anm at tiUbcadU Jhe 
«]io bath not ueiug^ to ascend Ibw iato it; lo, 
beM^plielbtbe piaee of eanqncit bj nader, of 
loreidgnty by riaaghte r. 

HewbolearatbaO^sfcriked&atan: wkjwnty- 
nata crael, bat becauae tbey Uve in tenor. 

CivU wan axe tbe moot Uoody, I 
«bo 6^ in tbem aie cowaids : 
anndexen^ became in death tbeie is silence. Is it 
not lear that teUetb tbem tbey aiay be betxayed ? 

The cor will tear the carcase^ thoogb he daied 
aotlookitin the face while liviag: the hound that 
hnnteth it to the death, mangleth it not afterwazds. 
That thoa mayest not be cniel^ set thyself up too 
high for hatred ; that thou xnayest not be iabniDan, 
place thyself above the reach of envy. 

Evexy man may be viewed in two lights; in one 
he will be troublesome, in the other less ofoisive : 
choose to see him in that which he least hniteth, 
thee ; then shalt thou not do hurt unto him. 

What is tbexe that a man may not turn nnto his 
good? In that which offendeth us most, thero is 
more gxoond for complaint than hatred. Han 
would be xeconciled to him of whom he complain- 
eth : whom mnrdeieth he, but him whom he hateth? 
If thou art prevented of a benefit, fly not into 
rage; the loss of thy veason is the want of a greater* 
When thou enviest the man who possesseth 
honours} whan his titles and his gxeatness raiae 
thy indignation ■, seel^ to know whence they cam^ 



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OF HUMAN LUe. 8tf 

VBto him; inqitire by ivlMtmeaBft he was posseiied 
of tbem^ and iUm mmtj will be tinned into pity. 

If tbe MOM fortune were offered unto tlaee at the 
sane price, be asBared, if thou wert wisey thov 
wenldBt xeftiBe it. 

What is the pay for titlea, but jBattery ? how delh 
man pnrdiase power^ but by being a riaTB to Um 
who giveth itf 

Wouldst thou loie thine own liberty, to be able 
to take away that of another? or canst thou enry 
him who doedi so? 

Man purchaseth nothing of his auperioia but lor 
a price; and that price is it not more tiliaa the 
value? Woul^ thou penrert the customs of di0 
wtndd? wouldst thou have the purchase and tbt 
price also? 

As thou canst not envy what thou wouldst not 
aeeepty disdain this cause of hatred ; and drive from 
thy soul this occasion of the parent of cruelty. » 

If thou possessest honour, canst thou envy that 
which is obtained at the expense of itt if thou 
knoweftt the value of virtue, pitiest thou not those 
who have bartered it so meanly ? 

When thou hast taught thyself to bear the seem* 
ing good of men without repining, thon wilt hear of 
their real happiness with pleasure. 

If thou seest good things &11 to one who de» 
serveth them, thou wilt rejoice in it: for virtue is 
happy in the prosperity of the iwtnous. 

He who rejoieeth in the happiness of anodns^ 
ingpemeth his own. 

HBAVnCESS OF HBAftT. 

THBsoal of the cheerful lorceth a snule iq[»on the 
iase of aAiction; but the despondenoe of the sad 
daadenfith even the brightacas of joy. 



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312 THE ECONOMY 

What is the source of Badness^ but a feeblenesi 
of the soul? what giveth it power but the want of 
spirit? Rouse thjrself to the combat^ and she qnit« 
teth the field before thou strikest. 

Sadness is an enemy to thy race^ therefore drive 
her from thy heart: she poisoneth the sweets of 
life, therefore suffer her not to enter thy dwelling. 

She raiseth the loss of a straw to the destruction 
of Ay fortune. While she vexeth thy soul about 
trifles> she robbeth thee of thine attendance to the 
things of consequence : behold, she but prophesieth 
what she seemeth to relate unto thee. 

She spreadeth drowsiness as a veil over thy vir- 
tues; she hideth them from those who would 
honour thee in beholding them; she entangleth 
and keepeth them down, while she maketh it most 
necessazy for thee to exert them. 

Lo, she oppresseth thee with evil; and she tieth 
4own thine hands, when they would throw the 
load from off thee. 

If thou wouldstavoid what is baBe,if thou wouldst 
disdain what is cowardly, if thou wouldst drive 
from thy heart what is unjust, suffer not sadness to 
lay hold upon it. 

Suffer it not to cover itself with the face of piety; 
let it not deceive thee with a show of wisdom. Re* 
ligion payeth honour to thy Maker ; let it not be 
clouded with melancholy. 

Wisdom maketh thee happy: know then, that 
sorrow iu her sight is as a stranger. 

For what %hould man be sorrowful, but for afilic- 
tions ? Why should his heart give up joy, when the 
causes of it are not removed from him ? Is not this 
being miserable for the sake of misery 7 

As the mourner who looketh sad because he is 
hiried to do so, who weepeth because his tears ai« 
paid for ; such is the man who suffereth his heart 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 313 

to be Bad^ not because he sufifereth aught^ but be- 
cause he is gloomy. 

It is not the occasion that produceth the sorrow \ 
for behold, the same thing shall be to another re- 
joicing. 

Ask men if their sadne^ maketh things better, 

and they will confess to thee that it is folly ; nay, 

they will praise him who beareth his ills with pa- 

• tience, who maketh head against misfortune with 

courage. Applause shall be followed by imitation. 

Sadness is against nature, for it troubleth her 
motions : lo, it rendereth distorted whatsoever na-, 
tare hath made amiable. 

As the oak f alleth before the tempest^ and raiseth 
not its head again ; so boweth the heart of man to 
the force of sadness^ and retumeth unto his strength 
no more. 

As the snow melteth upon the mountains, from 
the rain that trickleth down their sides, even so is 
beauty washed from off the cheek by tears ; and 
neither the one nor the other restoreth itseH again. 
As the pearl is dissolved by the vinegar^ which 
•eeineth at first only to obscure its surface j so is 
thy happiness, man! swallowed up by heaviness 
of heart, though at first it seemeth only to cover it 
as with its shadow. 

Behold Sadness in the public streets : cast thine 
eye upon her in the places of resort; avoideth she 
not every one? and doth not every one fly from 
ber presence? 

See how she droopeth her head, like the flower 
whose root is cut asunder ! see how she fixeth her, 
«yes upon the earth ! see how they serve her to no 
purpose but for weeping ! 

Is there in her mouth discourse ? is there in ber 
heart the love of society ? is there in her soul, jrea- 
P 



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314 THB ECONOMY 

»on? Ask her the caiae, she knovcth it not t in* 
quire the occaaion, and behold there is none j 

Yet doth her strength fail her; lo, at length she 
sinketh into the grave •, and no one saith. What ii 
become of her? 

Hast thou understanding, and seest thou not 
this? hast thou piety, and perceivetl thOu not thine 

God created thee in mercy: had he not intended 
thee to be happy, his beneficence would not have 
oaUed thee into existence ; how daiest thou theti to 
fly in the face of Majesty? 

WhUst thou art most happy with innocence, thou 
doest him most honour ; and whtt is thy discontent 
but murmuring agwnst him? 

Created he not all things liable to changes; and 
darest thou to weep at their changing? 

If we know the law of natrn*, wherefore do wc 
complain of it? If we are ignorant of it, what shall 
we wxuse but our blindness to what every moment 
ttiveth us proof of ? * . i ^ 

Know that it is not thouthat art to give laws to 
the world; thy part is to submit to them tMi thou 
findest them. If they distress thee, thy lamentar 
tjon but addeth to thy torment. 

Be not deceived with fair pretences, nop suppose 
that sorrow healeth misfortune. It is a pcuon 
under the colour of a remedy: while it pretnideth 
to draw the arrew from thy breast, lo, it phmgeth 
it into thine heart. , il- j 

While sadness separateth thee from thy fnends, 
doth it not say. Thou art unfit for conversation? 
while she driveth thee into comets, doth she not 
prodaim that she is ashamed of herself? 
. It is not in thy nature to meet the arrows of ill- 
fortune unhurt ; nor doth reason lequke it of thoe: 



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OF HUMAN UFE. 316 

it is thy doty to bear naatortxako' like a miai; but 
thou must £x8t also fed it like one. 

Tears may drop from thine eyes^ though virtue 
falleth not from thine hetfft; be thou careful only 
that there is cause> and that they flow not too 
abundantly* 

What is there that weakeneththe soullilce grief 7 
ivhat depresseth it like sadness. 

Is the sorro^vfol prepared for noble enterprises? 
or atmeth he himself in the cause of virtue ? 

Subject not thyself to ills^ where there are no ad* 
vantages u tetum ; neither sacrifice thou the means 
d good imto that irhich is in it9i64f :«n evil. 



OF THE ADVANTAGES MAN MAY ACQUIRE 
OVER HIS FELLOW-CREATURES. 

NOBILITY AND HONOUR. 

Nob ility resideth not but in the soulj nor is 
tibre true h onour exce pt in vi rfae,^ " 

Tlie lUVUUr bT prmceTmSy bebought by vice J 
rank and titles may be purchased for money: but_ 
these are not tr iift 1^"BQ?^ 

"Urlmesca'nnot exalt the man who commits them^ 
to real glory : neither can gold make men noble. 

When titles are the rfeward of virtue, when the* 
inan is set on high who hath served his country ; he 
who bestoweth die honours hath glory, like as h^ 
who receiveth them; and the world is benefited 
byit. 

' Wouldst thou wish to be raised, and men know 
not for what? or wouldst thou that they should say. 
Why is this?'"* 

When the virtues of the hero descend to his chil- 
dren, his titles accompany them well; but when he 



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316 THE ECONOMY 

who poMetsetli them is unlike him who deserved 
them> lo, do they not call him degenerate? 

Hereditary honour is accounted the most noble ; 
but reason speaketh in the cause of him who hath 
acquired it. 

He who, meritless himself, appealeth to the ac- 
tions of his ancestors for his greatness, is like the 
thief who claimeth protection by flying to the pagod. 

What good is it to the blind, that his parents 
could see? what benefit is it to the dumb, that his 
grandfather was eloquent? even so, what is it to 
the mean, that their predecessors were noble? 

1A mind disposed to virtue maketh great the pos- 
sessor; and without titles it will raise him above 
the vulgar. 
He will acquire honour while others receive it : 
and will he not say unto them. Such wore the men 
whom ye glory in being derived from ? 

As the shadow waiteth on the substance, even so 
true honour attendeth upon virtue. 

Say not that honour is the child of boldness, nor 
believe thou that the hazard of life alone can pay 
the price of it : it is not to the action that it is due, 
but to the manner of performing it. 

All are not called to guide the helm of state \ 
neither are their armies to be commanded by every 
one: do well in that which is committed to thy 
« charge, and praise shall remain unto thee. 

Say not that difficulties are necessary to be con- 
quered, or that labour and danger must be in the 
way of renown. The woman who is chaste, is she 
not praised ? the man who is honest, deserveth he 
not to be honoured? 

The thirst of fame is violent ; the desire of honour 
is powerful; and he who gave them to us, gave 
them for great purposes. 

When desperate actions are necessary to th^ 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 317 

public, when oar lives are to be exposed for the 
good of our country, what can add force to virtue 
but ambition? 

It is not the receiving of honour that delighteth 
the noble mind; its pride is the deserving of it. 

Is it not better that men should say. Why hath 
not this man a statue? than that they should ask. 
Why he hath one? 

The ambitious will always be first in the crowd ; 
he presseth forward, he looketh not behind him. 

More anguish is it to his soul, to see one before 
him, than joy to leave thousands at a distance. 

The root of ambition is in every man; but it 
riseth not in all : fear keepeth it down in some ; in 
many it is suppressed by modesty. 

It is the inner garment of the soul; the first thing 
put on by it with the flesh, and the last it layeth 
down at its separation from it. 

It is an honour to thy nature when worthily em^ 
ployed ; when thou direotest it to wrong purposes, 
it sfaameth and destroyeth thee. 

In the breast of the traitor ambition is covered; 
hypocrisy hideth its face under her mantle; and 
cool dissimulation fumisheth it with smooth words; 
but in the end men shall see what it is. 

The serpent loseth not his sting though benumbed 
with the frost ; the tooth of the viper is not broken 
though the cold closeth his mouth : take pity on his 
state, and he will shew thee his spirit ; warm him 
in thy bosom, and he will requite thee with death. - 

He that is truly virtuous, loveth virtue for her- 
self; he disdaineth the applause which ambition 
aimeth after. 

How pitiable were the state. of virtue, if she could 
not be happy but ftom another's praise ! she is too 
noble to seek recompense, and no more will, than 
can be rewarded. 



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318 THE ECONOMY 

The higher the suu ri8eth> the less shadow doih 
he make: even so the greater is the virtae^ the lest 
doth it covet praise : yet cannot it avoid its reirard 
in honours. 

Glory^ like a shadow, flieth him who puiyaeth it : 
bttt it folJoweth at the heels of him who would fly 
from it; if thou courtest it without merits thou shalt 
never attain unto it; if thou deservest it, though 
thou hidest thyself, it wil? never forsake .thee. 

Pursue that which is honourable ', do that which 
is right; and the applause of thgae own conscience 
will be more joy to thee> than the shouts of millions 
who know not that thou deserveth them. 

SCIENCE AND LEARNING. 

Trb noblest employment of the mind of man, is 
the study of the works of his Creator. 

To him vihom the science of nature delighteth, 
every object bringeth a proof of his God; evpry 
thing that proveth it, giveth cause of adoration. 

His mind is lifted up to heaven every moment ; 
his life is one COnCtinual act of devotion. 

Casteth he his eye towards the clouds, findeth he 
not the heavens full of his wonders? Looketh he 
down to the earth, doth not the worm proclaim to 
him, Lesffthan omnipotence could not have formed 
me? 

While the planets perform their coursef^^ while 
the sun remaineth in his place ; while the comet 
wandereth through the liquid air, and retumeth to 
its destined road again; who but thy God, O num ! 
could have formed them ? what, but i»fimte wisdom 
could have appointed them their laws ? 

Behold how awful their splendour 1 yet<lo they 
not diminish : lo, how rapid their motions ! yet one 
runneth not in the way of another. 
Look down upon the earthy and see! her produce j 



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OF HUMAN LIFE. 819 

examine her bowels^ and heboid what they contain : 
bath not wisdom and power ordained the whole? 

Who biddeth the grass to spring up ? who water* 
eth it at its due seasons? Behold the ox croppeth 
it; the horse and the sheep, feed they not upon it? 
Who is he that provideth it for them ? 

Who.giveth increase to the com that thou sow- 
est? who retumeth it to thee a thousand fold? 
- Who ripeneth for thee the olive in its time ? 
and the grape> though thou knowest not the cause 
ofit? 

Can the meanest fly create itself? or wert thou 
aught less than Grod^ couldst thou have fashioned it? 

The beasts feel that they exists but wonder not at 
it ; they rejoice in their life^ but they know not that 
it shall end : each performeth its course in succes- 
sion^ nor is there a loss of one species in a thou- 
sand generations. 

Thou who seest the whole as admirable as its 
parts^ canst thou better employ thine eye, than in 
tracing out thy Creator's greatness in them; thy 
mind, than in examining their wonders ? 

Power and mercy are displayed in their forma- 
tion; justice and goodness shine forth in the pro- 
vision that is made for them ; all are happy in Uieir 
several ways ; nor envieth one the other. 

What is the study of words compared with this? 
In what science is knowledge, but im the study of 
nature? 

When thou hast adored the fabric, inquire into 
its use ; for know the earth produceth nothing but 
may be of good to thee. Are not food and raiment, 
and the remedies for thy diseases, all derived from 
this source alone ? 

Who is wise then, but he that knoweth it? who 
hath understanding, but he that contemplateth it? 
For the rest, whatever science hath most utility. 

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320 THE ECONOMY 

whatever knowledge hath least vanity, prefer these 
unto the others ; and profit from them for the sake 
of thy neighbour. 

To live, and to die ; to command, and to obey ; 
to do> and to suffer; are not these all that thou 
iiast farther to care about? Morality shall teach 
thee these ^ the Economy of Life shall lay them 
before thee. 

Behold, they are written in thine heart> and thou 
needest only to be reminded of them :' they are 
easy of conception ; be attentive, and thou shalt 
retain them. 

All other sciences are vain, all other knowledge 
is boast ; lo, it is not necessary or beneficial to man> 
nor doth it make him more good, or more honest. 

Piety to thy God, and benevolence to thy fellow- 
creatures, are they not thy great duties? 

What shall teach thee the one, like the study of 
his works? what shall inform fhee of the other, 
like understanding thy dependencies? 



ON NATURAL ACCIDENTS. 

PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY. 

Let not prosperity elate thine heart above mea- 
sure ; neither depress thy soul unto the grave, be- 
cause fortune beareth hajni against thee. 

Her smiles are not stable, therefore build not thy 
confidence upon them ; her firowns endure not for 
ever, therefore let hope teach thee patience. 

To bear adversity well, is diflScult; but to be 
temperate in prosperity, is the height of wisdom. 

Good and ill are the tests by which thou art to 
know thy constancy ; nor is there aught else that 
can tell thee the powers of thine own soul: be 
therefore upon the watch when they are upon thee. 

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OF HUMAN LIFE. 321 

Bebold prosperity^ how sweetly she flattereth 
thee; how iusensibly she robbeth thee of thy 
strength andvk«^ vigour! 

Thoagh thou hast been constant in ill fortune, 
though thou hast been invincible in distress ; yet 
by her thou art conquered : not knowing that thy 
strength retumeth not again; and yet that thou 
again mayest need it. 

Affliction moveth our enemies to pity; success 
and happiness cause even our friends to envy. 

Adversity is the seed of well doing; it is the 
nurse of heroism and boldness; who that hath 
enough, will endanger himself to have mbre ? who 
that is at ease^ will set his life on the hazard ? 

True virtue will act-under all circumstances; but 
men see most of its effects when accidents concur 
with it. 

In adversity man seeth himself abandoned by 
others ; he findeth that all his hopes are centered 
within himself; he rouseth his soul, he encounter- 
eth his difficulties, and they yield before him. 

In prosperity he fancieth himself safe ; he think- 
eth he is beloved by all that smile about his teble : 
he groweth careless and remiss ; he seeth not the 
danger that is before him ; he trusteth to others, 
and in the end they deceive him. 

Every man can advise his own soul in distress ^ 
but prosperity blindeth the truth. 

Better is the sorrow that leadeth to contentment, 
than the joy that rendereth man unable to endure 
distress, and after plungeth himself into it. 

Our passions dictate to as in all our extremes : 
moderation is the effect of wisdom. 

Be upright in thy whole life ; be content in all * 
its changes; so shalt thou make thy profit out of all 
occurrences; so shall every thing that happeneth 
unto thee be the source of praise. 

9 

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g22 . THB ECONOMY 

The ¥ris6 maketh every thing the means of ad- 
vantage ; and with the same countenance beholdeth 
he all the faces of fortone : he govttueth the gopd, 
he conquereth the evil: he is nnmoved in all. 

Presume not in prosperity, neither despair in 
adversity : court not dangers, nor meanly fly from 
before them : dare to despise whatever will not re* 
main with thee. 

Let not adversity tear off the winga of hope ; 
neither let prosper!^ obscure the light of prudence. 

He who despaireUi of the end, shall never attain 
wito it; and he who seeth not the pit, shall perish 
therein. 

He who calleth prosperity his good ; who hath 
said unto her. With thee will I establish my hap- 
piness; lo! he anchoreth his vessel in a bed of 
sand, which the return of the tide washeth away. 

As the wi^r that passeth from the mountains 
kisseth, in its way to the ocean, every field that 
bordereth the rivers; as it tarrieth not' in any 
place; even so fortune visiteth the sons of men; 
her motion is incessant, she will not stay; she is 
unstable as the winds, how then wilt thou hold 
her? When ^e kisseth thee, thou art blessed; 
behold, as thou tumeth to thank her she is gone 
unto another. 

PAIN AND SICKNESS. 

The sickness of the body affecteth even the soul : 
the one cannot be in health without the other. 

When thy constancy faileth thee, call in thy 
reason : when thy patience quitteth thee, call in thy 
hope. 

To suffer, is a necessity entailed upon thy nature; 
wouldst thou that miracles should protect thee firma 
it? or Shalt thou repine, because it happeneth unto 
thee, when lo, it happeneth unto all? 



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OP HtMAN LIFE. - 323 

It is injustiqe to expect exemption from that thou 
wast bom onto; humbly submit to the laws of thy 
. condition* 

Wouldst thou say to the seasons. Pass not on> 
lest I grow old? is it not better to suffer well that 
which thou canst not avoid ? 

Pain that endnreth long, is moderate; blush 
therefore to complain of it: that which is violent^ 
is short: behold thou seest the end of it. 

The body was created to be subservient to the 
soul; while thou afflietest the soul for its pains, 
behold thou settest that above it. 

As the wise afflicteth not himself because a thorn 
teareth his garment ; so the patient grieveth not his 
soul, because that which to vereth it is injured. 

DEATH. 

Death is the test of our lives, the assay which 
sheweth the standard of all our actions. 

Wouldst thou judge of a life, examine the period 
of it ; the end crowneth the attempt : and where 
dissimulation is no more, there the truth appeareth. 

He hath not spent his life ill, who knoweth to 
die well; neither can he have Ibst all his time, 
who employeth the last portion of it to his honour. 

He was not bom in vain who dieth as he ought ; 
neither hath he lived unprofitably who dieth happily. 

He that considereth he is to die, is content while 
he liveth : he who striveth to forget it, hath no 
pleasure in any thing; his joy appeareth to him a 
jewel which he expecteth every moment he shall 
lose. 

Wouldst thou learn to die nobly? let thy vices 
die before thee. Happy is he who endeth the busi- 
ness of his life before his death: who, when the 
hour of it Cometh, hath nothing to do but to die; 



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324 THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 

who wisheth not delays because he hath no longer 
use for time. 

Avoid not death, for it is a weakness ; fear it not, 
for thouundetatandest not what it is : aJl that thou 
certainly knowest, is, that it putteth an end to thy 
present sorrows. 

Think not the longest life the happiest : that 
which is best employed, doeth man the most honour ;^ 
himself shall rejoice after death in the advanti^es 
of it. 

This is the complete Economy of Human Life. 



THE END. 



Printed bj J. F. Dove, St. John'i Squaw. 



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