;CD
CO
FROM-THE- LIBRARY-OF
TR1NITYCOLLEGETORQNTO
DONATED FROM THE LIBRARY OF
Alasdair Charles Macpherson, Ph.D.
PILOT, OFFICER R.A F.
KILLED IN ACTION. AUGUST. 1941
SIXTH EDITION
TO A
DEVOUT AND
HOLY LIFE
ADAPTED TO THE
STATE AND CONDI
TION OF ALL ORDERS
OF CHRISTIANS
WILLIAM LAW, A.M
WITH INTRO
DUCTION BY
C. BIGG, D.D.
OF CHRIST CHURCH
OXFORD
METHUEN & Co. LTD
36 ESSEX ST. W.C.
LONDON
H'SOD
First Published . . November 1899
Second Edition . . May 1902
Third Edition . . October 1904
Fourth Edition . . March 190?
Fifth Edition . . October 1912
Sixth Edition . . 1920
JUL 15
INTRODUCTION
Of the Present Edition
*\ T THAT is here offered to the reader is a
* * reprint of the First Edition of the
Serious Call, published by William Innys
in 1729. Our pages are smaller, but the
contents of each page are the same, and in
every respect — with the exception of some
unimportant details of typography — this
edition may be regarded as a facsimile of
the Ed'it'w princeps.
Law's writing is so transparently clear
that no notes, beyond such as are embodied
in this Introduction, appear to be either
necessary or desirable. In the case of so
modern and so English a book, the object of
scholarly fidelity is best attained by present
ing the text as nearly as possible in the exact
shape in which it left the hands of the author-
Even the spelling, and the archaic use of
capital letters and italics have been care
fully preserved. They will serve to remind
b v the
vi Introduction
the reader that Law wrote in the eighteenth
century, not in the nineteenth- — a fact which,
as is pointed out in the following pages, is in
many respects of importance.
II
Of the Life of William Law
a much richer account of the Life
and Opinions of the Reverend William
Law, A.M., than can be given here, the
student must be referred to the elaborate
work of Canon Overton, published by
Longmans in 1881. Canon Overton writes
with a fulness of knowledge of English
religion in the eighteenth century which is
possessed by very few ; and Law, more than
most men, bears the impress of the time in
which his lot on earth was cast. Here it
will not be possible to do more than sketch
the salient features of his remarkable character
and history.
William Law was born in 1686, at King's
Cliflfe, a considerable village near Stamford,
in Northamptonshire. His father, Thomas
Law, was a grocer and chandler — kept,
that
Introduction vii
that is to say, the village shop. It is a
position, as all country people know, of some
importance in the rustic hierarchy, and in
those days was more important than it is
now. Both the father and the mother —
her name was Margaret — were good, religious
people. Some have thought that they were
the models for Paternus and Eusebia in
the Serious CalL
Their son, William — he was the fourth of
eight sons, and there were three daughters
as well — entered Emmanuel College, Cam
bridge, as sizar, or poor scholar, in 1705;
took his B,A. degree in 1708 ; was elected
Fellow and ordained in 1 7 1 1 ; and graduated
as M.A. in 1712,. While at Cambridge he
drew up a set of "rules for my future
conduct." The first rule was " to fix it
deep in my mind that I have one business
upon my hands — to seek for eternal happi
ness by doing the will of God." " Doing
the will of God " sums up the earlier part
of Law's history, as freedom and peace in
the Holy Spirit sums up the later. Through
the one he rose to the other, like Origen
and many other saints. Yet, when Law was
a curate in London — the exact date is
unknown — he is said to have courted
fashionable
viii Introduction
fashionable society, and to have been " a
great beau." It is possible that about 1720
there was a final act of self-renunciation.
In 1713 Law was for a time suspended
from his degrees for a Tripos speech. Part
of the ceremonies attending the Bachelors'
commencement at Cambridge was a burlesque
oration, delivered in the schools on Ash
Wednesday, by a bachelor seated on a
three - legged stool, and hence known as
Tripos. He was expected to be " witty,
but modest withal " ; but it was difficult for
sprightly young men to hit the golden mean.
Some of these licensed jesters indulged in
gross personalities, some ventured on political
satire, and suspensions were not infrequent.
Law could not keep the Pretender out of his
tirade.
But at the time Law was not Bachelor but
Master. If it were safe for an alien to
meddle with the arcana of Cambridge life,
a suspicion might be expressed that Law was
really not Tripos but Praevaricator — a per
sonage who played the same part, as Lord
of Misrule or Abbot of Unreason, at
the Masters' commencement. However,
we learn here three facts about Law: first,
that he was a convinced Jacobite ; second,
that
Introduction ix
that he was not discreet, or, at anyrate, not
worldly wise ; third, that he was regarded
at Cambridge as a man who could and
would make an amusing speech. Indeed, as
we can see from his books, Law had a
pretty gift of wit, though he was absolutely
devoid of humour. The difference is that
wit sees the absurdities of others, while
humour is conscious of its own.
Shortly afterwards Law testified to the
sincerity of his political convictions in a
much more serious fashion. On the acces
sion of George I., in 1716, he refused to
take the oaths of allegiance and abjuration,
and was accordingly deprived of his Fellow
ship, and of all prospect of employment in
the Churchc
The loss to Law was very great. His
stiff conscientiousness cost him not only
influence but work, and he was condemned
henceforth to eat his heart as a looker-on.
Further, he was exposed to the full force of
that sour trial which besets the martyr who
is not wanted. The history of Non-jurism,
like that of Jacobitism in general, is not edify
ing. But affliction tries the righteous man,
and very pure reverence is due to those who,
like Ken, Nelson, and Law, retained their
saintliness
x Introduction
saintliness in a world which had cast them
out, and which they could not understand.
Almost immediately after the resignation
of his Fellowship, Law began to make his
mark in the world of literature. The
Three Letters to the Bishop of Bangor
appeared in 1717 ; the Remarks upon the
Fable of the Bees in 1723; and the Case
of Reason in 1731. Mandeville was a
silly, scoffing creature ; but Hoadly, the
latitudinarian bishop, and Tindal, the philo
sophical Deist, were formidable antagonists,
and Law showed himself a match for both.
In 1726 appeared the treatise on The
Absolute Unlawfulness of Stage Entertain
ments. Of this, we may notice in passing,
that it was suggested by a piece that had
been acted " almost every night one whole
season," in which Venus, Pan, Silenus,
Bacchus, and a number of other "filthy
demons of the heathen world " were brought
upon the stage to talk in keeping with their
character, or want of character. Law, no
doubt, was carried too far ; he forgot that he
was not living in the age of Tertullian, and
on this, as on many other questions, he
showed a want of balance. But his disgust
at "wanton songs and impure rant" was
natural
Introduction xi
natural enough in days when the Restoration
drama held the stage ; and there is much that
might be said about the morality of the foot
lights in any age.
In 1726 appeared the first of Law's
devotional works, the Practical Treatise upon
Christian Perfection. It is significant that
Law uses "perfection " here, not, as the old
fathers, of love, but of obedience. One
result of the book was probably that con
nection with the Gibbon family which
shaped the whole of Law's after - life.
About this time Mr Edward Gibbon, the
grandfather of the historian, was seeking a
tutor for his only son. Law was selected
for this office, attended the younger Gibbon
to Cambridge, and in 1730, when his pupil
went abroad to make the grand tour, found
a home in that " spacious house with gardens
and land at Putney," where his patron
resided, "in decent hospitality." Here he
lived, "as the much honoured friend and
spiritual director of the whole family,"
till the establishment was broken up some
little time after Mr Gibbon's death in 1736.
In 1729 the publication of the Serious
Call had set the seal on Law's reputation,
and he was visited and consulted at Putney
by
xii Introduction
by a little circle of disciples. Chief among
them were Dr Cheyne, the two Wesleys,
and Byrom. The Wesleys drifted away
froni him ; but the good and flighty John
Byrom, squire of Kcrsall, near Manchester —
poet, mystic, Jacobite, physician— remained
his faithful friend and worshipper through
life. But Law was one of those men who
have many admirers and few friends, and
whose friends are markedly inferior to them
selves. They are men who cannot bear
contradiction.
In 1737, according to Mr Moreton, in
1740, according to other authorities, we
find Law settled at King's ClifTe, his birth
place, in a good house known as King John's
Palace, or the Hall Yard. Here, in 1744,
he was joined by Miss Hester Gibbon, the
daughter of his old patron, and Mrs Eliza
beth Hutcheson, the widow of a wealthy
country gentleman ; and here he died in
1761.
Law's life at King's ClifFe was wholly
uneventful. The only dates that emerge are
those of the writings which he sent to the
Press from time to time, down to the very
year of his death. It cannot have been a
wholesome existence for so able a man to
have
Introduction xiii
have been thus immured as domestic chaplain
with two women of limited understanding
and eccentric character. He seems to have
had scarcely any contact with the outside
world. Certainly he suffered through the
absence of larger duties and converse with
his equals. The little household was strictly
ordered- The Bible and books of theology
were the only literature admitted ; nor was
any form of recreation tolerated beyond con
versation, a little music, and an occasional
drive or ride. The historian Gibbon, who
is oddly divided between dislike of Law's
ways and pride in having been, in a sense, the
proprietor of so famous a man, speaks of
the house at King's Cliffe as "a hermitage,"
and the term is not inappropriate.
The Christian duty most insisted upon by
Law was charity. He himself was the soul
of munificence. He built and endowed a
girls' school at King's ClifFe, possibly with
the thousand pounds which had been sent to
him anonymously by some person who was
grateful for spiritual profit received from the
Christian Perfection. In 1745 the founda
tion was increased by Mrs Hutcheson, till
it included also a school for boys, alms-
houses, and a library, which still exist.
Such
xiv Introduction
Such wise generosity could bear none but
good fruits. But the rule of the house was
that all surplus income should be given away
in alms. As Mrs Hutcheson enjoyed two
thousand a year, while Miss Gibbon had
inherited half her father's large property,
and Law himself possessed some means,
the sums thus disposed of must have been
very considerable. The natural result was
the demoralisation of the whole countryside.
King's ClifTe was crowded with undeserving
mendicants, and the evil became so serious
that the rector preached against it, and the
parish made representations to the magistrates.
Here, too, there is a characteristic feature.
Law lived just before the iron age of
Political Economy set in. Smith's Wealth
of Nations appeared in 1776. Perhaps the
rector of King's ClifFe was a magistrate.
But Law's heart was fixed on the letter of
the Gospel, and what he thought to be —
though it by no means was — the practice
of primitive Christianity. Here also, as in
his politics, he stood at the parting of the
ways, and failed to see that the old road
had come to an end. It was an age of
giving. Kings gave pensions ; ministers be
stowed sinecures; noblemen rained showers
of
Introduction xv
of guineas on troops of gaping dependants ;
and so the ideal country priest, as he is
painted in Goldsmith's Deserted Village,
gave all he could to all who asked.
"Pleased with his guests the good man learned
to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe."
Law would never suffer his portrait to be
taken ; but Mr Tighe, who visited King's
Cliffe some time before 1813, and received
information from " a kind person " there,
tells us that he " was in stature rather over
than under the middle size ; not corpulent,
but stout made, with broad shoulders ; his
visage was round, his eyes grey, his features
well-proportioned and not large ; his com
plexion ruddy, and his countenance open and
agreeable. He was naturally more inclined
to be merry than sad. . . . He chose to
eat his food from a wooden platter, not from
an idea of the unnecessary luxury of a plate,
but because it appeared to him that a plate
spoiled the knives."
He was a thorough Englishman in person
and mind, with the English touch of whimsy
about him. Yet he is a noble figure. In
all his numerous controversies he never used
a discourteous word or used a disingenuous
argument
xvi Introduction
argument. He never fought for trifles, nor
for any cause that did not lie very near to
the heart of religion He made great sacri
fices, and made them in vain. He found
himself condemned to a life of isolation, yet
he never lost heart or temper, or showed
the least trace of bitterness, though he was
naturally of a masterful and positive disposi
tion ; indeed, he grew in sweetness and large
ness of view to the very end. And certainly
no one could be more consistent or thorough.
" He left,'* says Gibbon the historian, " the
reputation of a worthy and a pious man, who
believed all that he professed and practised all
that he enjoined," and these words are just.
Ill
Of the Opinions of William Laiv
OME reader* possibly may wish to have
a brief account of Law's intellectual
position. It changed very greatly as his life
went on.
At Cambridge he wrote a thesis on
Malebranche and the J^ision of All Things
in God. From the first Mysticism had an
attraction
Introduction xvii
attraction for him ; but he was never a
Platonist. Nor, indeed, though one of the
keenest and most logical of men, was he
ever a clear and consistent thinker on first
principles.
We see his early position best in his
controversies with Mandeville and TindaL
In his criticism of the Fable of the Bees
he insists on the " eternal fitness of actions."
But he immediately proceeds to explain this
phrase away. Actions are fit or good when
they promote that happiness which is "the
perfection of every being" — "the only reason
able end of every being/'
But upon what does happiness depend ?
We learn this from the Case of Reason,
the reply to Tindal's Christianity as Old as
the Creation. Happiness is relative to our
condition, and depends on what we are.
And what we are, both in mind and body,
depends wholly on the will of God. No
action is moral or immoral in itself. " To
instance, in the case of Abraham, required to
sacrifice his son, the killing of a man is neither
good nor bad, considered absolutely in itself."
But, when God commanded Abraham to slay
Isaac, the act became necessary to Abraham's
happiness, and therefore right.
It
xviii Introduction
It is curious to notice that this is exactly
the position of Duns Scotus. But it is more
important to observe that we have here the
key to the tremendous emphasis laid by
Law, in the Serious Call, on the virtue of
obedience. All duty resolves itself into a
command of the Almighty, and we have no
course but to submit. Virtue is, as Law
expressed it in his Cambridge rule, not like
ness to God, but " doing the will of God."
Again, "we know," says Law, "our moral
and social duties, which have their foundation
in the conveniences of this life, and the several
relations we bear to one another," But our
relation to God we do not know ; " this is
a question which God alone can resolve.
Human reason cannot enter into it ; it has
no principle to proceed upon in it."
The Deists maintained that those who have
reason do not want revelation, because reason
teaches us our duty both to God and man.
Further, that if revelation is not reason, reason
cannot test, and therefore cannot accept it.
Further, that the Bible revelation is bad,
because the conduct of Abraham was not
reasonable. These are the objections that
Law had to meet, and he meets them by
falling back upon the arbitrary will of God.
In
Introduction xix
In effect, he replies Christianity is true because
it is true. Obviously, it is not a satisfactory
reply ; but it is not even acute.
Let the reader compare here the answer
given by St Augustine. The same difficulty
as to the Old Testament morality that was
forced upon Law by the Deists was forced
upon Augustine by the Manichees. Augustine
replies {Conf. iii. 9) that all men have some
knowledge of God, and that this is the
criterion of right and wrong. This knowledge
grows in the individual and in the world,
and the law which it supplies is not capable
of absolutely perfect expression in conduct.
Hence we must distinguish motive from
action, times earlier from times later ; we
must take account of history, and recognise
the fact of moral evolution. Augustine
admits that God may command " some
strange and unexpected act," but adds the
significant words, " Blessed are they who
know that Thou hast commanded." Law
confines the distinction of right and wrong
to action, admits no criterion but that of
happiness, and has no historical sense at all.
As to revelation, Augustine would have
answered that it is simply more reason ; that
it leads us higher, but on the same lines ; that
it
xx Introduction
it sheds light on what we knew before, and
brings completer harmony into previous ex
perience : hence, that though we do not know
beforehand what it will be, as Tindal fancied
we ought, we can recognise it when it comes,
as Newton recognised the laws of motion
when he had discovered them, or when they
had been "revealed" to him. Law says,
" The credibility of any external divine
revelation with regard to human reason,
rests wholly upon such external evidence as
is a sufficient proof of the divine operation or
interposition. ... I appeal, therefore, to the
miracles and prophecies on which Christianity
is founded."
Law, in fact, held a thoroughly empir
ical view of Reason, derived neither from
Descartes nor from Malebranche, but from
Locke. His intellectual position was
Agnosticism. To this in his earlier days
he added Authority; in his later Mysticism,
or special revelation ; but in both periods his
creed was external — was, we may say, an
appendix to his philosophy — and was not
linked by any vital process to his theoretical
opinions.
The most fatal mistake a theologian can
make is to set Will above Reason. The
next
Introduction xxi
next worst is to set Love above Reason.
Law fell out of one of these errors into the
other. He never altered his views of Reason ;
indeed, in his later writings he speaks of it
with a passionate scorn.
Is theology a matter of temperament ?
Law was not wise, but he had a strong
will and a tender heart, and when he found
that his earlier views would not afford him
the assurance that he needed, he threw him
self into the arms of one who was even more
tender-hearted than himself, Jacob Behmen,
the illuminated cobbler of Gorlitz.
Even before he wrote his reply to Tindal,
Law was a diligent reader of mystical books.
His special favourites appear to have been
a Kempis, Ruysbroek, Tauler, and the
Theologia Germanica^ who all preach the
religion of the heart. The French mystics
"of the seventeenth century — Madame de
Guyon, Madame Bourignon, and the rest
— he knew but did not like ; there was too
much hysteria about them to suit his manly
temper. But somewhere about 1733 he fell
in with Behmen, who took him by storm.
Thus Law, who, in his Three Letters to
Hoadly, had scornfully lumped together
Quakers, Ranters, Muggletonians, and
c Socinians
xxii Introduction
Socinians as " Enthusiasts," became an
enthusiast himself.
Behmen's works had existed in English
since 1641. They gave birth to more
than one mystical sect, and, in particular,
inspired George Fox. They led also to
a great increase in that love for alchemy,
which, as we know from Aubrey's Lives,
was so common at the time. They induced
Isaac Newton to waste three months in
searching for the philosopher's stone, and
suggested the line of inquiry which issued
in the discovery of the Laws of Motion.
It was the mystic belief in the unity of
Nature that guided Newton in either case.
In the eighteenth century Behmen was
widely read. " In winter evenings," says
Rusticus in the Way to Divine Knowledge,
" when John the shepherd comes out of
the fields, his own eyes being bad, the
old woman, his wife, puts on her spectacles,
and reads about an hour to him, sometimes
out of the Scriptures, and sometimes out of
Jacob Behmen. I sat by him one evening,
when my old dame, reading Behmen, had
much ado to get on. 'John,' said I, *do
you understand all this ? ' < Ah,' says he,
* God bless the heart of the dear man, I
sometimes
Introduction xxiii
sometimes understand but little of him ; and
mayhap Betty does not always read aright ;
but that little which I often do understand
does me so much good that I love him where
I do not understand him:' '
The truth is that it is not easy, nor, to be
frank, is it possible to understand Behmen,
who was rather Theosopher than Mystic.
We can see that he was a man of gentle,
loving disposition, and when he speaks of the
sovereign goodness of God we can follow
his meaning. But his visions and revelations
are among those that have brought discredit
on the name of Mystic — as if it signified a
dreamer who is next door to a charlatan.
To the true Mystic — Augustine is the most
perfect type — Nature is the staircase by
which we climb towards the knowledge of
its Author, Reason is the candle of which
Love or Faith is the flame. The Many
lead on to the One, — the Visible to the In
visible Earth, in its beauty and intelligi
bility, is a shadow of heaven ; matter guides
us towards mind, and is in its turn explained
by mind. Thus Mind and Matter, and the
reasoning processes in which they meet —
Ethics, Science, Art — receive their proper
due, as parts of one ordered whole. This is
what
xxiv Introduction
what is often called the sacramental view of
Nature.
But the false or bastard Mystic, of whom
Behmen is a type, looks for God in his own
soul — in a faculty specially imparted for this
purpose, and not possessed by all men. There
he finds God, and in God all knowledge.
The One leads to the Many. The inner
light teaches him at once all that there is to
be known. Thus he discerns the nature
and hidden virtues of things ; the signatures
of plants, and the diseases they will cure; the
affinities of metals, and the method by which
they may all be transmuted into gold. He
casts away true knowledge and deludes him
self with false.
it will be seen that this stamp of Mysticism
is the exact inversion of the first. Augustine
exalts Reason and makes full use of it, Behmen
abolishes Reason ; Augustine regards the
world as a stepping-stone to religion, to
Behmen the world has no religious value at
all. Hence, the invariable notes of what
we call the bastard Mysticism are ignorance,
presumption, and division. What the writers
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
including Henry More the Platonist, branded
as Enthusiasm, is as different from true
Mysticism
Introduction xxv
Mysticism as light from darkness. It pro
duces Faustus, but not Augustine.
Both Fox and Law turned away with
English common-sense from the worst extra
vagances of Behmenism, though Fox was
tempted for a moment to set up as a physician
on the strength of the inner light. But both
took from the Gorlitz cobbler the whole of
his wild theory of the Fall and Redemption.
Fox went boldly on to the logical conse
quence of Behmenism, and rejected all forms,
including the sacraments. Behmen himself
did not take this perilous step. Nor did Law.
But Law adopted a whole set of idle fancies,
which are best passed by in silence. Those
who care to go further into this melancholy
topic, may read his Grounds and Reasons
of Christian Regeneration. What is more
serious still, Law completely severed his con
nection with history, which had never been
strong. He remained a High Churchman, but
without any sort of inner consistency.
Yet what a strange thing Mysticism is,
and what power and beauty attach even to
its most perverted forms ! Behmenism sup
plied a fruitful idea to Newton, and it made
Law a better, a more lovable, and even a
wiser man. In his earlier writings virtue
appeared
xx vi Introduction
appeared as reasonable self-love ; in the later
he recognises that selfishness in any form is
not religious He had made far too much of
mechanism and drill : now he insists that
goodness must be "a living thing." He
had leant his whole weight on "evidences,"
on the props and supports of revelation : now
he sees that everything must be its own proof,
and that life can be known only by life. He
had maintained that goodness is mere utility :
now he believes that there is but " one God,
one Good, and one Goodness."
The Mystic treatises abound in fine sayings.
Let us take a few almost at random. " Faith
is the power by which a man gives himself
up to anything," whether it be to conduct, to
science, to art, or even to politics or business.
It follows from this profound definition that
Reason is not to be regarded as the antithesis
of Faith. " Truth, my friend, whatever you
may think of it, is no less than the Saviour
and Redeemer of the world." " See that
your mind be free, universal, impartial."
In fact, a great change had come over
Law, and in many ways it was conspicuously
for the better. Some readers will think that
he gave himself up too unrestrainedly to the
worship of Love; that Love, unless guided by
Wisdom
Introduction xx v i i
Wisdom, is not trujy divine ; and that here
again Law's fear of Reason had brought him
to the verge of grave errors. But we have
already been too critical. " Oh Academicus,"
we hear Law saying, " forget your Scholar
ship, give up your Art and Criticism, be a
plain man, and then the first rudiments of
sense may teach you that there and there
only can goodness be, where it comes forth
as a Birth of Life^ and is the free natural
work and fruit of that which lives within
us." These are fine words ; only we must
not take them quite as Law intended them.
IV
Of the Serious Call
HPHE Serious Call was published in 1729,
when its author was about forty-
three years of age. The world has always
regarded it as Law's masterpiece, and with
good reason. In it Law describes his own
life and principles, with all the force of earnest
sincerity. The book is, we may say, a part
of himself. Some prefer the more philo
sophical writings, but Law was not really
eminent in that department of thought, nor
could
xxviii Introduction
could he ever throw his heart into it. He
judged too meanly of reason to wish to excel
in speculation. Others, again, would place
the mystical treatises first, and it must be
admitted that they contain phrases and
passages which, both in style and sentiment,
rise above anything that is to be found in
the Serious Call. On the other hand, every
page of the Behmenist writings is marred by
touches that to most readers are exceedingly
repellent.
The style of the Serious Call is admir
ably adapted to its subject. It is grave,
lucid, strong, but not graceful. There is
never the slightest doubt about Law's mean
ing ; he conveys to the reader the exact idea
that is in his own mind. He selects the
plainest words, the most homely figures, and
is not in the least afraid of iteration. A
typical instance is to be found in the parable
of the Pond, in the eleventh chapter. The
picture is as distinct as possible ; but it is a
picture such as Hogarth drew. Almost the
only artistic feature in the book is to be
found in the Characters. Some of them are
drawn with consummate skill ; many of them
show how keen a power of sarcasm Law
possessed, and how carefully he bridled it.
Attempts
Introduction xxix
Attempts have been made to find real person
ages behind the characters. Paternus and
Eusebia have been identified with Law's
own father and mother ; and Gibbon per
suaded himself that Flavia and Miranda re
presented his two aunts — " the heathen and
the Christian sister " — Katharine and Hester.
But of Paternus we are expressly told that
" he lived about two hundred years ago,"
and the characters are all types, suggested,
no doubt, by people whom Law had met,
yet not drawn from life. Character painting
had been for a century a favourite method
of conveying moral instruction, and many
famous writers, from Earle to Addison, have
left us specimens of their skill in this kind
of composition. But how few virtuous char
acters Law has drawn ! He gives us the
foolish country gentleman, the foolish scholar,
the foolish man of affairs, but not their wise
counterparts. The reason is that in Law's
view of religion, which leaves the world out
altogether, one good person is exactly like
another. A pious physician is acceptable to
God as pious, but not at all as a physician.
The Serious Call has not escaped criticism,
and, indeed, it is easy enough to point
out features in which it bears the mark
of
xxx Introduction
of the eighteenth century. But it is a
splendid protest against the spiritual apathy
of the times, and no more strenuous plea
for consistency and thoroughness was ever
delivered.
The book is addressed to Christians, and it
is, as its title implies, a Serious Call to be
what they profess. The point is inevitable ;
it is driven home with extraordinary force,
and Law's whole life gives weight to every
word.
It is not in the least necessary to agree
with Law in all the details. The question
which he presses upon the reader is, " Are
you living the Christian life as you believe it
ought to be lived? Are you acting up to
your convictions ? Are you a sham or not ? "
Few can face this question, as Law will put
it to them, without many qualms of con
science.
As in the Imitation we have a pure
man describing purity, so here we have a
real man insisting on reality. Every syllable
is transparently genuine. This is the secret
of the Serious Call. It is remarkable that,
of those whom we know to have been
deeply affected by the book, not one was
in complete sympathy with Law. Nor does
Law
Introduction xxxi
Law expect this. He would say to the
reader, " If you are wiser than I, thank God
for it, but beware that you are not less
sincere." Let us take a few conspicuous
instances of this fecundity, this catholicity of
the book. For, in spite of his primness and
eccentricity, Law had a truly catholic mind.
One of the first and most illustrious of
his disciples was John Wesley. "Meeting
now," says Wesley, — the time was shortly
after his election to the Lincoln Fellowship
— "with Mr Law's Christian Perfection and
Serious Call, although I was much offended
at many parts of both, yet they convinced me
more than ever of the exceeding height and
breadth and depth of the law of God. The
light flowed in so mightily upon my soul that
everything appeared in a new light. ... I
was convinced more than ever of the impos
sibility of being half a Christian."
There were " many parts " of the book
which Wesley did not approve, even at the
first. In 1732 he called upon Law at
Putney, consulted him upon religious ques
tions, and took him for "a kind of oracle."
But in 1738 the little rift widened into a divi
sion. On his return from Georgia, Wesley
threw in his lot with the Moravians. But
Law
xxxii Introduction
Law could not abide Peter Bohler, whose
views of the Atonement, of faith, of instan
taneous conversion, and of sinlessness were
highly repugnant to him. A sharp corre
spondence ensued between Wesley and Law
(it will be found in Overton or Tyerman),
and these two excellent men drifted apart.
Later on, Wesley became much more sober
in many of his views, but by this time Law
had taken up with Behmenism, and this was
a new barrier Yet, within eighteen months
of his death, Wesley spoke of the Serious
Call as " a treatise which will hardly be
excelled, if it be equalled, in the English
tongue, either for beauty of expression, or
for justness and depth of thought."
Again, no good man could well be more
unlike Law than Dr Johnsonc Johnson
held that "no non-juror could reason," and
would not admit that Law was an exception.
He was often too burly and sweeping in his
assertions, but he could not sympathise with
Law's politics, or his philosophy, or his
peremptory exclusion of the "world" from
"religion," which was the unfortunate conse
quence of his philosophy. Further, Johnson
was completely agreed with those who spoke
of Law's peculiar type of Mysticism as
" crack-brained
Introduction xxxiii
" crack-brained fanaticism." " Law," said
he, "fell latterly into the reveries of Jacob
Behmen, whom Law alleged to have been
somewhat in the same state with St Paul,
and to have seen things unutterable. Were it
even so, Jacob would have resembled St Paul
still more, by not attempting to utter them."
There is truth in this jibe ; indeed, setting
aside the scorn of the expression, it is the
truth. Yet Johnson thought that the Serious
Call was '* the finest piece of hortatory
theology in any language." " When at
Oxford," he says in another place, " I took
it up expecting to find it a dull book, and
perhaps to laugh at it. But I found Law
quite an over-match for me ; and this was
the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of
religion after I became capable of religious
inquiry."
Thus Law gave a great impulse to
Methodism, and breathed new life into the
old-fashioned High Church. But he also
affected strongly the rising Evangelical
school, though, in this particular, his influ
ence was more distinctly of the Socratic
kind : he gave a " torpedo shock," which
quickened life, though of a different type
from his own. What Hervey, Newton,
Venn
xxx iv Introduction
Venn, and Madan disliked in Law was
partly his setting Behmen on a practical
equality with Scripture, and partly his view
of the Atonement. As to this latter point,
it may be said that it is the cause of the
depressed tone of all Law's theology. Flying
to the opposite extreme from that Calvinism
which had wrought such havoc in Church
and State, he sedulously eliminated from our
Lord's Passion the idea of vicarious suffering ;
and therefore what he preached was always
self-denial and never self-sacrifice. There
is nothing in Law at all like St Bernard's
" nosegay of myrrh," or that wonderful out
burst of mingled sorrow and jubilation which
pierced even the sceptical spirit of George
Eliot, " the King's High Way of the Cross,"
in the Imitation. Law's " ethical view "
strikes heroism out of religion, casts aside the
noblest of motives to which the dullest of
men will respond, and turns the spiritual life
into a round of unceasing penance. It spoils
even his later mystic rhapsodies on the Divine
Love. ..For a love which will not suffer fpr
us is unintelligible, and indeed does not
exist.'
One other instance may be selected from
the history of the Tractarian movement.
" Froude
Introduction xxxv
" Froude told me," says Isaac Williams,
" that Keble once, before parting from him,
seemed to have something on his mind which
he wished to say, but shrank from saying.
At last, while waiting, I think, for a coach,
he said to him before parting : ' Froude, you
said one day that Law's Serious Call was
a clever (or pretty, I forget which) book;
it seemed to me as if you had said the Day
of Judgment would be a pretty sight.' ':
There was much in Law that John Keble
would not like — for Keble was a poet ; and
what a world of difference lies in that one
word ? There was not a grain of poetry
in Law's composition. But Keble, too, was
caught by the deep note of absolute sincerity
which dominates the Serious Call.
All these instances will help the reader to
understand what use he is to make of the
book which is here offered to him. Many
good men, of widely divergent ways of think -
ing, have read it with great profit to their
souls. The same thing is true of the
Imitation^ but with a difference. The
Imitation deals, upon the whole, rather
with the goal of the Christian life ; the
Serious Call, upon the whole, rather with
the threshold — with that strait gate through
which
xxxvi Introduction
which all must pass. Shall we say that the
end and the beginning are the same for all
believers ? that only in the middle part of
our course do the roads diverge? Perhaps
we may gather this lesson from the wide
spread love for these two books. But what
we are to learn above all things from the
Serious Call is that there can be no truth
and no wholesome life without perfect
sincerity. " A double-minded man is un
stable in all his ways."
A SERIOUS
CALL
TO A
DEVOUT and HOLY
LIFE.
Adapted to the State and Condition of
All Orders of Christians.
By WILLIAM LA W, A.M.
He that hath ears to hear^ let him hear.
St. LUKE viii. 8.
And behold^ I come quickly^ and my reward is
with me. REV. xxii. 12.
LONDON :
Printed for WILLIAM I N N Y s, at the West
End of St. Paul' 'j-. MDCCXXIX.
d
THE
CONTENTS
CHAP. I.
(CONCERNING the Nature and Extent of
^* Christian Devotion. Page I
CHAP. II.
An Enquiry into the Reason, why the generality
of Christians fall so far short of the Holiness
and Devotion of Christianity , 1 6
CHAP. III.
Of the great danger and folly of not intending
to be as eminent and exemplary as we can, in
the practice of all Christian virtues, 28
CHAP. IV.
We can please God in no state or condition of
life, but by intending and devoting // all to
his honour and glory, 46
CHAP.
xl The CONTENTS.
CHAP. V.
Persons that are free from the necessity of la
bour and employments, are to consider them
selves as devoted to God in a higher degree,
Page 68
CHAP. VI.
Containing the great obligations, and the great
advantages of making a 'wise and religious use
of our estates and fortunes, 79
CHAP. VII.
How the imprudent use of an estate corrupts all
the tempers of the mind, and Jills the heart
'with poor and ridiculous passions through the
•whole course of life ; represented in the cha
racter off 'lavia. 92
CHAP. VIII.
How the 'wise and pious use of an Estate, natu
rally carrieth us to great perfection in all the
virtues of the Christian Life ; represented in
the character of Miranda. 103
CHAP.
The CONTENTS. xli
CHAP. IX.
Containing some reflections upon the life of Mi
randa ; and shewing how it may, and ought
to be imitated by all her sex, Page 119
CHAP. X.
Shewing how alt orders and ranks of men and
'women of all ages ^ are obliged to devote them
selves unto God. 139
CHAP. XI.
Shewing how great devotion Jills our lives 'with
the greatest peace and happiness that can be
enjoy V/ in this life, 163
CHAP. XII.
The happiness of a life 'wholly devoted unto God,
farther prov dt from the vanity, the sensua
lity, and the ridiculous, poor enjoyments,
'which they are forced to take up 'with, 'who
live according to their own humours. This
represented in various characters, 187
CHAP. XIII.
That not only a life of vanity, or sensuality,
but even the most regular kind of life, that
xlii The CONTENTS.
is not govern' 'd by great devotion, sufficiently
shews its miseries, its wants, and emptiness,
to the eyes of all the 'world. This represented
in various characters, •f>ag- 207
CHAR XIV.
Concerning that part of Devotion which relates
to times and hours of Prayer. Of daily
early prayer in the morning. How ewe are to
improve our forms of Prayer, and hovu to in
crease the spirit of devotion. 228
CHAP. XV.
Of chanting, or singing of Psalms in our private
devotions. Of the excellency and benefit of
this kind of devotion. Of the great effects it
hath upon our hearts. Of the means of per
forming it in the best manner, 262
CHAP. XVI.
Recommending devotion at nine o'clock in the
morning, call'd in Scripture the third hour
of the day. The subject of these prayers is
humility, 288
CHAP. XVII.
Shelving hoiu difficult the practice of humility is
madf, by the general spirit and temper of the
'world.
The CONTENTS, xliii
world. How Christianity requireth us to live
contrary to the world, Pag- 3°6
CHAP. XVIII.
Shelving how the education which men generally
receive in their youth, makes the doctrines of
humility difficult to be practised. The spirit
of a better education, represented in the cha
racter of Paternus, 325
CHAP. XIX.
Shelving how the method of educating daughters,
makes it difficult for them to enter into the
spirit of Christian humility. How miserably
they are injured and abus'd by such an educa
tion. The spirit of a better education repre
sented in the character of Eusebia, 347
CHAP. XX.
Recommending Devotion at twelve o' Clock, calPd
in Scripture the sixth hour of the day. This
frequency of Devotion equally desirable by all
orders of people. Universal love is here re
commended to be the subject of prayer at this
hour. Of intercession, as an act of universal
love, 378
CHAP.
xliv The CONTENTS.
CHAP. XXI.
Of the necessity and benefit of Intercession, con
sider* das an exercise of universal love. Hoiv
all orders of men are to pray and intercede
'with God for one another. Hoiv naturally
such intercession amends and reforms the
hearts of those that use it, Page 411
CHAP. XXII.
Recommending Devotion at three o'clock, called in
Scripture th* ninth hour of the day. The
subject of prayer at this hour, is resignation
to the divine pleasure. The nature and duty
of conformity to the ivill of God in all our acti
ons and designs, 439
CHAP. XXIII.
Of Evening prayer. Of the nature and necessity
of examination. Hoiv twe are to be particular
in the confession of all our sins. How ive are
to fill our minds 'with a just horror and dread
of all sin, 459
CHAP. XXIV.
The Conclusion. Of the Excellency and Great
ness of a devout Spirit, 481
A SERI-
A SERIOUS CALL
TO A DEVOUT
AND HOLY LIFE
A
SERIOUS CALL
TO A
Devout and Holy Life
CHAP. I
Concerning the Nature and Extent of Christian
Devotion
T^\ E VOTION is neither private nor publich
•V^ Prayer, but Prayers whether private
or publick, are particular parts or instances
of Devotion. Devotion signifies a life given,
or devoted to God.
He therefore is the devout man, who lives no
longer to his own will, or the <way and spirit
of the world, but to the sole will of God,
who considers God. in every thing, who serves
God
2 A Serious CALL
God in every thing, who makes all the parts
of his common life, parts of piety, by doing
every thing in the name of God, and under
such rules as are conformable to his Glory.
We readily acknowledge, that God alone
is to be the rule and measure of our Prayers,
that in them we are to look 'wholly unto him,
and act wholly for him, that we are only to
pray in such a manner, for such things, and
such ends as are suitable to his Glory.
Now let any one but find out the reason why
he is to be thus strictly pious in his prayers,
and he will find the same as strong a reason to
be as strictly pious in all the other parts of his
life. For there is not the least shadow of a
reason, why we should make God the rule
and measure of our prayers, why we should
then look wholly unto him, and pray accord
ing to his will ; but what equally proves it
necessary for us to look 'wholly unto God, and
make him the rule and measure of all the
other actions of our life. For any ways of
life, any employment of our talents, whether
of our parts, our time or money, that is not
I strictly according to the will of God, that is
not for such ends as are suitable to his Glory,
are as great absurdities and failings, as prayers
that are not according to the will of God.
For there is no other reason, why our prayers
should be according to the will of God, why
they should have nothing in them, but what
is wise, and holy and heavenly, there is no
other reason for this, but that our lives may be
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 3
of the same nature, full of the same 'wisdom,
holiness and heavenly tempers, that we may
live unto God in the same spirit that we pray
unto him. Were it not our strict duty to live
by reason, to devote all the actiqns of our lives
to God, were it not absolutely necessary to
walk before him in wisdom and holiness and
all heavenly conversation, doing every thing
in his name, and for his glory, there would be
no excellency or wisdom in the most heavenly
prayers. Nay, such prayers would be absur
dities, they would be like Prayers for 'wings,
when it was no part of our duty to^y?y.
As sure therefore as there is any wisdom
in praying for the Spirit of God, so sure is it,
that we are to make that Spirit the rule of all
our actions ; as sure as it is our duty to look
'wholly unto God in our Prayers, so sure is it,
that it is our duty to live 'wholly unto God
in our lives. But we can no more be said to
live unto God, unless we live unto him in all
the ordinary actions of our life, unless he be
the rule and measure of all our ways, than
we can be said to pray unto God, unless our
Prayers look 'wholly unto him. So that un
reasonable and-absurd ways of life, whether
in labour or diversion, whether they consume
our time, or our money, are like unreasonable
and absurd Prayers, and are as truly an
offence unto God.
'Tis for want of knowing, or at least con
sidering this, that we see such a mixture of
Ridicule
4 A Serious CALL
Ridicule in the lives of many People. You
see them strict as to some times and places of
Devotion, but when the Service of the Church
is over, they are but like those that seldom
or never com£ there. In their way of Life,
their manner of spending their time and money ',
in their cares and fears, in their pleasures
and indulgences, in their labour and diversions,
they are like the rest of the world. This
makes the loose part of the world generally
make a jest of those that are devout, because
they see their Devotion goes no farther than
their Praters, and that when they are over,
they live no more unto God, till the time of
Prayers returns again ; but live by the same
humour and fancy, and in as full an enjoyment
of all the follies of life as other People. This
is the reason why they are the jesc and scorn
of careless and worldly People ; not because
they are really devoted to God, but because
they appear to have no other Devotion, but
that of occasional Prayers.
Julius is very fearful of missing Prayers ;
all the Parish supposes Julius to be sick, if he
is not at Church. But if you was to ask him
why he spends the rest of his time by humour
and chance ? why he is a companion of the
silliest People in their most silly pleasures ?
why he is ready for every impertinent enter
tainment and diversion. If you was to ask
him why there is no amusement too trifling
to please him ? why is he busy at all 'balls and
assemblies ? why he gives himself up to an idle
gossiping
to a Devout and Holy Life 5
gossiping conversation ? why he lives in foolish
friendships and fondness for particular persons,
that neither want nor deserve any particular
kindness ? why he allows himself in foolish
hatreds and resentments against particular
persons, without considering that he is to
love everybody as himself? if you ask him
why he never puts his conversation, his time,
undfortune, under the rules of Religion, Julius
has no more to say for himself, than the most
disorderly Person. For the whole tenor of
Scripture lies as directly against such a life,
as against debauchery and intemperance : He
that lives in such a course of idleness and
folly, lives no more according to the Religion
of Jesus Christ, than he that lives in gluttony
and intemperance.
If a man was to tell Julius that there was
no occasion for so much constancy at Prayers,
and that he might, without any harm to him
self, neglect the service of the Church, as the
generality of People do, Julius would think
such a one to be no Christian, and that he
ought to avoid his company. But if a person
only tells him, that he may live as the gener
ality of the world does, that he may enjoy
himself as others do, that he may spend his
time and money as People of fashion do, that
he may conform to the follies and frailties of
the generality, and gratify his tempers and
passions as most People do, Julius never sus
pects that man to want a Christian spirit, or
that he is doing the devil's work.
And
6 A Serious CALL
And yet if Julius was to read all the New
Testament from the beginning to the end, he
would find his course of life condemn'd in
every page of it.
And indeed there cannot any thing be
imagined more absurd in it self, than ivise
and sublime, and heavenly Prayers added to a
life of vanity and folly, where neither labour
nor diversions neither time nor money, are under
the direction of the wisdom and heavenly
tempers of our Prayers. If we were to see a
man pretending to act wholly with regard to
God in every thing that he did, that would
neither spend time nor money, or take any
labour or diversion, but so far as he could
act according to strict principles of reason
and piety, and yet at the same time neglect
all Prayer, whether public k or private, should
we not be amaz'd at such a man, and wonder
how he could have so much folly along with
so much religion ?
Yet this is as reasonable as for any person
to pretend to strictness in Devotion, to be
careful of observing times and places of Prayer,
and yet letting the rest of his life, his time
and labour, his talents and money be disposed
of without any regard to strict rules of Piety
and Devotion. For it is as great an absurdity
to suppose holy Prayers, and divine Petitions,
without an holiness of life suitable to them,
as to suppose an holy and divine life without
Prayers.
Let
to a Devout and Holy Life 7
Let anyone therefore think, how easily
he could confute a man that pretended to
great strictness of Life without Prayer, and
the same Arguments will as plainly confute
another, that pretends to strictness of Prayer,
without carrying the same strictness into every
other part of life. For to be weak and
foolish in spending our time and fortune, is
no greater a mistake, than to be weak and
foolish in relation to our Prayers. And
to allow our selves in any ways of life that
neither are, nor can be offer'd to God, is
the same irreligion as to neglect our Prayers,
or use them in such a manner, as makes them
an offering unworthy of God.
The short of the matter is this, either
Reason and Religion prescribe rules and ends
to all the ordinary actions of our life, or they
do not : If they do, then it is as necessary to
govern all our actions by those rules, as it
is necessary to worship God. For if Religion
teaches us any thing concerning eating and
drinking, or spending our time and money, if
it teaches us how we are to use and contemn
the world, if it tells us what tempers we are
to have in common life, how we are to be
disposed towards all people, how we are to
behave towards the sick, the poor, the old and
destitute ; if it tells us whom we *are to treat
with a particular love, whom we are to re
gard with a particular esteem ; if it tells us
how we are to treat our enemies, and how we
are to mortify and deny our selves, he must
be
8 A Serious CALL
be very weak, that can think these parts of
Religion are not to be observ'd with as much
exactness, as any doctrines that relate to
Prayers.
It is very observable, that there is not one
command in all the Gospel for PuU'ick
Worship; and perhaps it is a duty that is
least insisted upon in Scripture of any other.
The frequent attendance at it is never so
much as mention'd in all the New Testament.
Whe'reas that Religion or Devotion which is
to govern the ordinary actions of our life, is
to be found in almost every verse of Scripture.
Our blessed Saviour and his Apostles are
wholly taken up in Doctrines that relate to
common life. They call us to renounce the
world, and differ in every temper and 'way
of life, from the spirit and way of the world.
To renounce all its goods, to fear none of
its evils, to reject its joys, and have no value
for its happiness. To be as new born babes,
that are born into a new state of things, to
live as Pilgrims in spiritual watching, in holy
fear, and heavenly aspiring after another life.
To take up our daily cross, to deny our
selves, to profess the blessedness of mourning,
to seek the blessedness of poverty of spirit. To
forsake the pride and vanity of Riches, to take
no thought for the morrow, to live in the pro-
foundest State of Humility, to rejoice in
worldly sufferings. To reject the lust of the
rlesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life ;
to bear injuries, to forgive and bless our ene-
to a Devout and Holy Life 9
mies, and to love mankind as God loveth
them. To give up our whole hearts and affec
tions to God, and strive to enter through the
strait gate into a life of eternal Glory.
This is the common Devotion which our
Blessed Saviour taught, in order to make it
the common life of all Christians. Is it not
therefore exceeding strange, that People
should place so much piety in the attendance
upon publick worship, concerning which there
is not one precept of our Lord's to be found,
and yet neglect these common duties of our
ordinary life, which are commanded in every
Page of the Gospel ? I call these duties the
devotion of our common life, because if they
are to be practis'd, they must be made parts
of our common life, they can have no place
any where else.
If contempt of the world, and heavenly
affection, is a necessary temper of Christians,
it is necessary that this temper appear in the
whole course of their lives, in their manner
of using the world, because it can have no
place any where else.
If self-denial be a condition of salvation,
all that would be saved, must make it a part
of their ordinary life. If humility be a
Christian duty, then the common life of a
Christian, is to be a constant course of humi
lity in all its kinds. If poverty of spirit be
necessary, it must be the spirit and temper of
every day of our lives. If we are to relieve the
naked, the sick, and the prisoner, it must be
the
io A Serious CALL
the common charity of our lives, as far as
we can render our selves able to perform
it. If we are to love our enemies, we
must make our common life a visible exercise
and demonstration of that love. If content
and thankfulness, if the patient bearing of evil
be duties to God, they are the Duties of
every Day, and in every circumstance of our
life. If we are to be wise and holy as the
new-born sons of God, we can no otherwise
be so, but by renouncing every thing that is
foolish and vain in every part of our common
life. If we are to be in Christ new creatures,
we must show that we are so, by having new
ways of living in the world. If we are to
follow Christ, it must be in our common way
of spending every day.
Thus it is in all the virtues and holy
tempers of Christianity, they are not ours
unless they be the virtues and tempers
of our ordinary life. So that Christianity
is so far from leaving us to live in the
common ways of life, conforming to the
folly of customs, and gratifying the passions
and tempers which the spirit of the world
delights in, it is so far from indulging us
in any of these things, that all its virtues
which it makes necessary to salvation, art-
only so many ways of living above, and con
trary to the world in all the common actions
of our life. If our common life is not a
common course of humility, self-denial, re
nunciation of the world, poverty of spirit, and
heavenly
to a Devout and Holy Life i i
heavenly affection, we don't live the lives of
Christians.
But yet though it is thus plain, that this
and this alone is Christianity, an uniform
open and visible practice of all these virtues,
yet it is as plain, that there is little or nothing
of this to be found, even amongst the better
sort of People. You see them often at
Church, and pleas'd with fine preachers, but
look into their lives, and you see them just
the same sort of People as others are, that
make no pretences to devotion. The differ
ence that you find betwixt them, is only the
difference of their natural tempers. They
have the same taste of the world, the same
worldly cares, and fears, and joys, they have
the same turn of mind, equally vain in their
desires. You see the same fondness for state
and equipage, the same pride and vanity of
dress, the same self-love and indulgence, the
same foolish friendships, and groundless
hatreds, the same levity of mind, and trifling
spirit, the same fondness for diversions, the
same idle dispositions, and vain ways of
spending their time in visiting and conver
sation, as the rest of the world, that make
no pretences to devotion.
I don't mean this comparison betwixt
People seemingly good and profest rakes, but
betwixt People of sober lives. Let us take
an instance in two modest Women : let it be
supposed, that one of them is careful of times
of Devotion, and observes them thro' a sense
of
12 A Serious CALL
of duty, and that the other has no hearty
concern about it, but is at Church seldom or
often, just as it happens. Now it is a very
easy thing to see this difference betwixt these
persons. But when you have seen this, can
you find any farther difference betwixt them ?
Can you find that their common life is of a dif
ferent kind ? Are not the tempers, and customs •,
and manners of the one, of the same kind as
of the other ? Do they live as if they be
longed to different worlds, had different views
in their heads, and different rules and measures
of all their actions ? Have they not the same
goods and evils, are they not pleased and dis
pleased in the same manner, and for the same
things ? Do they not live in the same course
of life ? Does one seem to be of this world,
looking at the things that are temporal, and the
other to be of another world, looking wholly
at the things that are eternal ? Does the one
live in pleasure, delighting her self in shew or
dress, and the other live in self-denial and mor-
t'lfication, renouncing every thing that looks
like vanity either of person, dress, or carriage ?
Does the one io\\ovt public k diversions, and trifle
away her time in idle visits, and corrupt con
versation, and does the other study all the arts
of improving her time, living in Prayer and
Watching, and such good works, as may make
all her time turn to her advantage, and be
placed to her account at the last day ? Is the
one careless of expence, nnd glad to be able to
adorn her self with every costly ornament of
dress
to a Devout and Holy Life i 3
dress, and does the other consider her fortune
as a talent given her by God, which is to be
improv'd religiously, and no more to be spent
in vain and needless ornaments, than it is to
be buried in the earth ?
Where must you look, to find one Person
of Religion differing in this manner, from
another that has none ? And yet if they do
not differ in these things which are here re
lated, can it with any sense be said, the one
is a good Christian, and the other not ?
Take another instance amongst the men. -
Leo has a great deal of good nature, has kept,
what they call, good company, hates every
thing that is false and base, is very generous
and brave to his friends, but has concern'd
himself so little with Religion, that he hardly
knows the difference betwixt a Jeew and a
Christian.
Eusebius on the other hand, has had early
impressions of Religion, and buys books of
Devotion. He can talk of all the feasts and
fasts of the Church, and knows the names of
most men that have been eminent for Piety.
You never hear him swear, or make a loose
jest, and when he talks of Religion he talks
of it, as of a matter of the last concern.
Here you see, that one person has Religion
enough, according to the way of the world,
to be reckon'd a. pious Christian, and the other
is so far from all appearance of Religion, that
he may fairly be reckon'd a Heathen ; and yet
if you look into their 'common life, if you ex
amine
14 A Serious CALL
amine their chief and ruling tempers in the
greatest articles of life, or the greatest doctrines
of Christianity, you will find the least differ
ence imaginable.
Consider them with regard to the use of
the world, because that is what every body
can see.
Now to have right notions and tempers with
relation to this world, is as essential to Re
ligion, as to have right notions of God. And
it is as possible for a man to worship a
Crocodile, and yet be a pious man, as to have
his affections set upon this world, and yet be
a good Christian.
But now if you consider Leo and Eusebius
in this respect, you will find them exactly
alike, seeking, using, and enjoying all that can
be got in this world in the same .manner, and
for the same ends. You will find that riches,
prosperity, pleasures, indulgences, state, equipage,
and honour are just as much the happiness of
Eusebius as they are of Leo. And yet if
Christianity has not changed a man's mind
and temper with relation to these things, what
can we say that it has done for him ?
For if the doctrines of Christianity were
practised, they would make a man as different
from other People as to all worldly tempers,
sensual pleasures, and the pride of life, as a
wise man is different from a natural-, it would
be as easie a thing to know a Christian by his
outward course of life, as it is now difficult to
find any body that lives'it. For it is notorious
that
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 5
that Christians are now not only like other
men in their frailties and infirmities, this
might be in some degree excusable, but the
complaint is, they are like Heathens in all the
main and chief -articles of their lives. They
enjoy the world, and live every day in the
same tempers, and the same designs, and the
same indulgences as they did who knew not
God, nor of any happiness in another life.
Every body that is capable of any reflexion,
must have observed, that this is generally the
state even of devout People, whether men or
ivomen. You may see them different from
other People so far as to times and places of
Prayer, but generally like the rest of the
world in all the other parts of their lives.
That is, adding Christian Devotion to an
Heathen life : I have the authority of our
Blessed Saviour for this remark, where he
says, Take no thought, saying what shall <we eat,
or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall
we be cloathed ? for after all these things do the
Gentiles seek. But if to be thus affected even
with the necessary things of this life, shews
that we are not yet of a Christian Spirit, but
are like the Heathens, surely to enjoy the
vanity and folly of the world as they did, to
be like them in the main chief tempers of our
lives, in self-love and indulgence, in sensual
pleasures and diversions, in the vanity of dress,
the love of shew and greatness, or any other
gaudy distinctions of fortune, is a much
greater sign of an Heathen temper. And con
s' sequently
1 6 A Serious CALL
sequently they \vho add Devotion to such a
life, must be said to pray as Christians, but
live as Heathens.
CHAP. II
An Enquiry into the Reason, <why the
generality of Christians fall so far short
of the Holiness and Devotion of
Christianity
TT may now be reasonably enquired, how
it comes to pass, that the lives even of
the better sort of People are thus strangely
contrary to the principles of Christianity.
But before I give a direct answer to this, I
desire it may also be enquir'd, how it comes
to pass that swearing is so common a vice
amongst Christians ? It is indeed not yet so
common amongst 'women, as it is amongst men.
But amongst men this sin is so common, that
perhaps there are more than t<wo in three that
are guilty of it through the whole course of
their lives, swearing more or less, just as it
happens, some constantly, others only now
and then, as it were by chance. Now I ask
how comes it, that two in three of the men
are guilty of so gross and prophane a sin as this
is : There is neither ignorance nor human
infirmity to plead for it : It is against an ex
press
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 7
press commandment, and the most plain
Doctrine of our blessed Saviour.
Do but now find the reason why the
generality of men live in this notorious vice,
and then you will have found the reason,
why the generality even of the better sort of
People, live so contrary to Christianity.
''Now the reason of common swearing is
this; it is because men have not so much as
the intention to please God in all their actions.
For let a man but have so much piety as to
intend to please God in all the actions of his
life, as the happiest and best thing in the world,
and then he will never swear more. It will
be as impossible for him to swear, whilst he
feels this intention within himself, as it is im
possible for a man that intends to please his
Prince, to go up and abuse him to his face.
It seems but a small and necessary part of
piety to have such a sincere intention as this ;
and that he has no reason to look upon him
self as a Disciple of Christ, who is not thus
far advanced in piety. And yet it is purely
for want of this degree of piety, that you see
such a mixture of sin and folly in the lives
even of the better sort of People. It is for
want of this intention, that you see men that
profess religion, yet live in swearing and sen
suality ; that you see Clergymen given to pride
and covetousness, and worldly enjoyments.
It is for want of this intention, that you see
women that profess Devotion, yet living in all
the tolly and vanity of dress, wasting their
time
1 8 A Serious CALL
time in idleness and pleasures, and in all such
instances of state and equipage as their estates
will reach. For let but a woman feel her
heart full of tins intention, and she will find it
as impossible to patch or paint, as to curse or
swear ; she will no more desire to shine at
Balls and Assemblies, or make a figure amongst
those that are most finely dress'd, than she
will desire to dance upon a Rope to please
Spectators: She will know, that the one is
as far from the 'wisdom and excellency of the
Christian Spirit, as the other.
It was this general intention, that made the
primitive Christians such eminent instances of
piety, that made the goodly fellowship of the
saints, and all the glorious army of martyrs
and confessors. And if you will here stop,
and ask your self, why you are not as pious
as the primitive Christians were, your own
heart will tell you, that it is neither through
ignorance nor inability^ but purely because you
never thoroughly intended it. You observe the
same Sunday -worship that they did ; and you
are strict in it, because it is your full intention
to be so. And when you as fully intend to
be like them in their ordinary common life,
when you intend to please God in all your
actions, you will find it as possible, as to be
strictly exact in the service of the Church.
And when you have this intention to please
God in all your actions, as the happiest and best
thing in the world, you will find in you as
great an aversion to every thing that is vain
and
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 9
and impertinent in common life, whether of
business or pleasure, as you now have to
any thing that is prophane. You will be as
fearful of living in any foolish way, either of
spending your time, or your fortune, as you
are now fearful of neglecting the public k
Worship.
Now who that wants this general sincere
intention, can be reckon'd a Christian ? And
yet if it was amongst Christians, it would
change the whole face of the world ; true
piety, and exemplary holiness, would be as
common and visible, as buying and selling, or
any trade in life.
Let a Clergyman but be thus pious, and he
will converse as if he had been brought up by
an sfpostle, he will no more thirtk and talk
of noble preferment, than of noble eating, or a
glorious chariot. He will no more complain
of the frotvns of the world, or a small cure,
or the want of a. patron, than he will complain
of the want of a lac'd coat, or a running horse.
Let him but intend to please God in all his
actions, as the happiest and best thing in the
world, and then he will know, that there is
nothing noble in a Clergyman, but a burning
zeal for the salvation of souls ; nor any thing
poor in his profession, but idleness and a
'worldly Spirit.
Again, let a Tradesman but have this inten
tion, and it will make him a saint in his shop ;
Jiis ever^-day business will be a course of wise
and reasonaHe^tionsVmacLeholy^to^God, by~
being
20 A Serious CALL
being done^ in obedience to his will and_
"pleasure, tie ~vnffT buy ^alid sell, and labour*
"Imtrtravel, because by so doing he can do
some good to himself and others. But then,
as nothing can please God but what is wise,
and reasonable, and holy, so he will neither
buy, nor sell, nor labour in any other manner,
nor to any other end, but such as may be
shewn to be 'wise, and reasonable, and holy.
He will therefore consider, not what arts, or
methods, or application will soonest make him
richer and greater than his brethren, or remove
him from a shop to a life of state and plea
sure ; but he will consider what arts, what
methods, what application can make worldly
business most acceptable to God, and make
a life of trade a life of holiness, devotion and
piety. This will be the temper and spirit
of every tradesman ; he cannot stop short
of these degrees -of piety, whenever it is his
intention to please God in all his actions, as the
best and happiest thing in the world.
And on the other hand, whoever is not
of this spirit and temper in his trade and pro
fession, and does not carry it on only so far
as is best subservient to a wise and holy and
heavenly life ; it is certain that he has not
this intention, and yet without it, who can be
shewn to be a follower of Jesus Christ ?
Again, let the Gentleman of birth and for
tune but have this 'intention, and you will see
how it will carry him from every appearance
of evil, to every instance of piety and goodness.
He
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 1
He cannot live by chance, or as humour and
fancy carries him, because he knows that no
thing can please God but a wise and regular
course of life. He cannot live in idleness and
indulgence, in sports and gaming, in pleasures
and intemperance, in vain expences and high
living, because these things cannot be turned
into means of piety and holiness, or made
so many parts of a wise and religious* life.
As he thus removes from all appearance of
evil, so he hastens and aspires after every
instance of goodness. He does not ask what
is allowable and pardonable, but what is com
mendable and praise-worthy. He does not
ask whether God will forgive the folly of our
lives, the madness of our pleasures, the vanity
of our expences, the richness of our equipage,
and the careless consumption of our time ;
but he asks, whether God is pleased with
these things, or whether these are the ap
pointed ways of gaining his favour. He does
not enquire, whether it be pardonable to
hoard up money, to adorn ourselves with
diamonds, and gild our chariots, whilst the
tuifloiu and the orphan, the sick and the
prisoner want to be reliev'd ; but he asks,
whether God has required these things at
our hands, whether we shall be call'd to
account at the last day for the neglect of
them ; because it is not his intent to live in
such ways as, for aught we know, God may
perhaps pardon, but to be diligent in such ways,
as we know, that God will infallibly reward.
He
22 A Serious C A LL
He will not therefore look at the lives of
Christians, to learn how he ought to spend
his estate, but he will look into the Scrip
tures, and make every doctrine, parable, pre
cept, or instruction that relates to rich men,
a law to himself in the use of his estate.
He will have nothing to do with costly
apparel, because the rich man in the Gospel
was cloathed ivith purple and fine hnnen. He
denies himself the pleasures and indulgences
which his estate could procure, because our
blessed Saviour saith, Wo unto you that are
rich, for ye have received your consolation. He
will have but one rule for charity, and that
will be, to spend all that he can that way,
because the judge of quick and dead hath
said, that all that is so given, is given to him.
He will have no hospitable table for the
rich and wealthy to come and feast with him
in good eating and drinking ; because our
blessed Lord saith, When thou makest a dinner,
call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither
thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours, lest they
also bid thee again, and a recompence be made
thee. But 'when thou makest a feast, call the
poor, the maimed, the lame, the
Luke xiv. blind, and thou shalt be blessed.
12, 13, 14. por they cannot recompence thee,
for thou shalt be recompensed at
the resurrection of the just.
He will waste no money in gilded roofs, or
costly furniture : He will not be carried from
pleasure to pleasure in expensive state and
equipage
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 3
equipage, because an inspir'd Apostle hath
said, that all that is in the 'world, the lust of
thcjlcsh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of
life, is not of the Father^ but is c/J the world.
Let not any one look upon this as an
imaginary description of charity, that looks
line in the notion, but cannot be put in
practice. For it is so far from being an
imaginary impracticable form of life, that it
has been practised by great numbers of
Christians in former ages, who were glad to
turn their whole estates into a constant course
of charity. And it is so far from being
impossible now, that if we can find any
Christians, that sincerely intend to please God
in all their actions as the best and happiest thing
in the 'world, whether they be young or old,
single or married, men or women, if they
have but this intention, it will be impossible ^
for them to do otherwise. This one principle
will infallibly carry them to this height of
charity, and they will find themselves unable
to stop short of it.
For how is it possible for a man that in
tends to please God in the use of his money,
and intends it because he judges it to be his
greatest happiness, how is it possible for such
a one in such a state of mind, to bury his
money in needless impertinent finery, in -cover
ing himself or his horses with gold, whilst
there are any works of piety and charity to
be done with it ; or any ways of spending it
well.
This
24 A Serious CALL
This is as strictly impossible, as for a man
that intends to please God in his words, to go
into company on purpose to swear and lye.
For as all waste and unreasonable expence is
done designedly, and with deliberation, so no
one can be guilty of it, whose constant inten
tion is to please God in the use of his money.
I have chose to explain this matter, by
appealing to this intention, because it makes
the case so plain, and because every one that
has a mind, may see it in the clearest light,
and feel it in the strongest manner, only by
looking into his own heart. For it is as easy
for every person to know, whether he intends
to please God in all his actions ; as for any
servant to know, whether this be his intention
towards his master. Every one also can as
easily tell how he lays out his money, and
whether he considers how to please God in
it, as he can tell where his estate is, and
whether it be in money or land. So that here
is no plea left for ignorance or frailty, as to
this matter every body is in the light, and
every body has power. And no one can fail,
but he that is not so much a Christian as to
intend to please God in the use of his estate.
You see two persons, one is regular in pub-
lick and private Prayer, the other is not. Now
the reason of this difference is not this, that
one has strength and power to observe Prayer,
and the other has not ; but the reason is this,
that one intends to please God in the duties
of Devotion, and the other has no intention
about
to a Devout and Holy Life 25
about it. Now the case is the same in the
right or wrong use of our time and money.
You see one person throwing away his time
in sleep and idleness, in visiting and diversions,
and his money in the most vain and unreason
able expences. You see another careful of
every day, dividing his hours by rules of
reason and Religion, and spending all
his money in works of chanty; now the
difference is not owing to this, that one has
strength and power to do thus, and the other
has not ; but it is owing to this, that one
'intends to please God in the right use of all his
time and all his money , and the other has no
intention about it.
Here therefore let us judge our selves
sincerely, let us not vainly content our selves
with the common disorders of our lives, the
vanity of our expences, the folly of our
diversions, the pride of our habits, the idleness
of our lives, and the wasting of our time,
fancying that these are such imperfections as
we fall into thro' the unavoidable 'weakness
and frailty of our natures ; but let us be
assured, that these disorders of our common
life are owing to this, that we have not so
much Christianity, as to intend to please God in
all the actions oj our life, as the best and happiest
thing in the 'world. So that we must not look
upon our selves in a state of common and
pardonable imperfection, but in such a .state,
as wants thejirst and most fundamental prin
ciple
26 A Serious CALL
ciplc of Christianity, viz. an intention to please
God in all our actions.
And if any one was to ask himself, how
it comes to pass, that there are any degrees
of sobriety which he neglects, any practices of
humility which he wants, any method of charity
which he does not follow, any rules of re
deeming time which he does not observe, his
own heart will tell him, that it is because he
never intended to be so exact in those duties.
For whenever we fully intend it, it is as
possible to conform to all this regularity of
life, as 'tis possible for a man to observe times
of Prayer.
So that the fault does not lie here, that we
desire to be good and perfect, but thro' the
weakness of our nature fall short of it ; but it
is, because we have not piety enough to intend
to be as good as we can, or to please God in
all the actions of our life. This we see is
plainly the case of him that spends his time in
sports, when he should be at Church ; it is
not his want of power, but his want of
intention, or desire to be there.
And the case is plainly the same in every
other folly of human life. She that spends
her time and money in the unreasonable ways
and fashions of the world, does not do so, be
cause she wants power to be wise and religious
in the management of her time and money,
but Because she has no intention or desire of
being so. When she feels this intention, she
will
to a Devout and Holy Life 27
will find it as possible to act up to it, as to be
strictly sober and chaste, because it is her care
and desire to be so.
This doctrine does not suppose, that we
have no need of divine grace, or that it is in
our own power to make our selves perfect. ^
It only supposes, that through the (want)~of
a sincere intention of pleasing God in all our
actions, we fall into such irregularities of
life, as by the ordinary means of grace, we
should have power to avoid.
And that we have not that perfection,
which our present state of grace makes us
capable of, because we don't so much as
intend to have it.
It only teaches us, that the reason why
you see no real mortification, or self-denial,
no eminent charity, no profound humility, no
heavenly affection, no true contempt of the
world, no Christian meekness, no sincere
zeal, no eminent piety in the common lives
of Christians, is this, because they don't so
much as intend to be exact and exemplary in
these virtues.
CHAP.
28 A Serious CALL
CHAP. Ill
Of the great danger ; and folly of not intending
to be as eminent and exemplary , as cwe can,
in the practice of all Christian virtues
A L THOUGH the goodness of God,
•f and his rich mercies in Christ Jesus
are a sufficient assurance to us, that he will
be merciful to our unavoidable weaknesses
and infirmities, that is, to such failings as
are the effects of ignorance or surprize ; yet
we have no reason to expect the same mercy
towards those sins which we have liv'd in,
through a want of intention to avoid them.
For instance, the case of a common
sivearer who dies in that guilt, seems to
have no title to the divine mercy, for this
reason, because he can no more plead any
weakness, or infirmity in his excuse, than
the man that hid his talent in the earth,
could plead his want of strength to keep
it out of the earth.
But now if this be right reasoning in the
case of a common swearer, that his sin is
not to be reckon'd a pardonable frailty,
because he has no weakness to plead in its
excuse, why then do we not carry this
way of reasoning to its true extent ? Why
don't we as much condemn every other
error of life, that has no more weakness to
plead in its excuse than common swearing ?
For
to a Devout and Holy Life 29
For if this be so bad a thing, because
it might be avoided, if we did but sincerely
intend it, must not then all other erroneous
ways of life be very guilty, if we live in
them, not through weakness and inability, ,
but because we never sincerely intended to
avoid them ?
For instance, you perhaps have made no
progress in the most important Christian
virtues, you have scarce gone half way in
humility and charity ; now if your failure in
these duties is purely owing to your want,
of intention of performing them in any true
degree, have you not then as little to plead
for your self, and are you not as much
without all excuse as the common snvearer ?
Why, therefore, don't you press these
things home upon your conscience ? Why
do you not think it as dangerous for you to
live in such defects as are in your power
to amend, as 'tis dangerous for a common
swearer to live in the breach of that duty-,
which it is in his power to observe ? Is not
negligence, and a want of a sincere intention,
as blameable in one case, as in another ?
You, it may be, are as far from Christian
Perfection, as the common swearer is from V
keeping the third Commandment ; are you not
therefore as much condemn'd by the doctrines
of the Gospel, as the swearer is by the
third Commandment ?
You perhaps will say, that all People fall
short of the Perfection of the Gospel, and
therefore
30 A Serious CALL
therefore you are content with your failings.
But this is saying nothing to the purpose.
For the question is not whether Gospel Per
fection can be fully attain'd, but whether you
come as near it as a sincere intention, and
careful diligence can carry you. Whether
you are not in a much lower state than you
might be, if you sincerely intended, and
carefully labour'd to advance your self in all
Christian virtues.
If you are as forward in the Christian
Life, as your best endeavours can make you,
then you may justly hope that your imper
fections will not be laid to your charge ;
but if your defects in piety, humility, and
charity, are owing to your negligence, and
want of sincere intention to be as eminent as
you can in these virtues^ then you leave
your self as much without excuse, as he
that lives in the sin of swearing, through
the want of a sincere intention to depart
from it. ,
The salvation of our souls is set forth in
Scripture as a thing of difficulty, that requires
all our diligence, that is to be ivorli* d out with
fear and trembling.
We are told, that strait is the gate, and
narrow is the ivay that leadeth unto life, and
few there be that find it. That many are called,
but fe*w are chosen. And that many will miss
of their salvation, who seem to have taken
some pains to obtain it. As in these words,
Strive to enter in at the strait gate, for many
I sa»
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 i
/ s/iv iinlo you iv ill seek to enter in, and shall
not be able.
Here our blessed Lord commands us to
strive to enter in, because many will fail, who
only seek to enter. By which we are plainly
taught, that Religion is a state of labour and
striving, and that many will fail of their
salvation ; not because they took no pains or
care about it, but because they did not take
pains and care enough ; they only sought,
but did not strive to enter in.
Every Christian, therefore, should as well
examine his life by these Doctrines, as by
the Commandments. For these Doctrines
are as plain marks of our condition, as the
Commandments are plain marks of our duty.
For if salvation is only given to those who
strive for it, then it is as reasonable for me
to consider, whether my course of life be
a course of striving to obtain it, as to con
sider whether I am keeping any of the
Commandments.
If my Religion is only a formal compli
ance with those modes of worship that are in
fashion where I live ; if it costs me no pains
or trouble ; if it lays me under no rules and
restraints ; if I have no careful thoughts and
sober reflections about it, is it not great
weakness to think that 'I am striving to enter
in at the strait gate ?
If I am seeking every .thing that can
delight my senses, and regale my appetites ;
spending my time and fortune in pleasures, in
c diversions
32 A Serious CALL
diversions, and worldly enjoyments, a
stranger to watchings, fastings, prayers, and
mortifications, how can it be said that I am
Working out my salvation 'with fear and
trembling ?
If there is nothing in my life and conver
sation, that shews me to be diiferent from
Jews and Heathens ; if I use the world, and
worldly enjoyments, as the generality of
people now do, and in all ages have done,
why should I think that I am amongst those
few, who are walking in the narrow way to
heaven ?
And yet if "the way is narrow, if none
can walk in it but those that strive, is it not
as necessary for me to consider, whether the
way I am in be narrow enough, or the labour
I take be a sufficient striving, as to consider
whether I sufficiently observe the second or
third Commandment ?
'The sum of this matter is this : From the
above-mention'd, and many other passages of
Scripture, it seems plain, that our salvation
depends upon the sincerity and perfection of
our endeavours to obtain it.
Weak and imperfect men shall, notwith
standing their frailties and defects, be received,
as having pleas' d God, if they have done
their utmost to please him.
The rewards of charity, piety, and humi
lity, will be given to those, whose lives have
been a careful labour to exercise these virtues
in as high a degree as they could.
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 3
We cannot offer to God the service of
Angels ; we cannot obey him as man in a
state of perfection could ; but fallen men can
do their best, and this is the perfection that
is required of us ; it is only the perfection
of our best endeavours, a careful labour to
be as perfect as we can.
But if we stop short of this, for aught we
know, we stop short of the mercy of God,
and leave our selves nothing to plead from the
terms of the Gospel. For God has there
made no promises of mercy to the slothful
and negligent. His mercy is only offer'd to
our frail and imperfect, but best endeavours
to practise all manner of righteousness.
As the law to angels is angelical righteous
ness, as the law to perfect beings is strict
perfection, so the law to our imperfect
natures is the best obedience that our frail
nature is able to perform.
The measure of our love to God, seems.
in justice to be the measure of our love of
every virtue. We are to love and practise
it 'with all our heart, 'with all our soul, 'with
all our mind, and 'with all our strength*
And when we cease to live with this regard
to virtue, we live below our nature, and
instead of being able to plead our infirmities,
we stand chargeable with negligence.
It is for this reason that we are exhorted,
to work out our salvation with fear and trem
bling ; because unless our heart and passions are
eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation ;
unless
34 A Serious CALL
unless holy fears animate our endeavours, and
keep our consciences strict and tender about
every part of our duty, constantly examining
how we live, and how fit we are to die, we
shall in all probability fall into a state of
negligence, and sit down in such a course of
life, as will never carry us to the rewards
of heaven. ^
And he that considers, that a just God
can only make such allowances as are
suitable to his justice, that our works are
all to be examined by fire, will find that
fear and trembling are proper tempers for
those that are drawing near so great a trial.
And indeed there is no probability that
any one should do all the duty that is
expected from him, or make that progress
in piety, which the holiness and justice of
God requires of him; but he that is con
stantly afraid of falling short of it.
• Now this is not intended to possess people's
minds with a scrupulous anxiety and dis
content in the service of God, but to fill
them with a just fear of living in sloth and
idleness, and in the neglect of such virtues as
they will want at the day of judgment.
It is to excite them to an earnest examina
tion of their lives, to such zeal, and care
and concern after Christian perfection, as
they use in any matter that has gain'd their
heart and affections.
It is only desiring them to be so apprehen
sive of their state, so humble in the opinion
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 5
of themselves, so earnest after higher
degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling
short of happiness, as the great Apostle
St. Paul was, when he thus wrote to the
Philippians.
Not as though I had already attain d, either
"were already perfect, - but this one
thing I do, forgetting those things 'which are
behind, and reaching forth unto those things
which are before : I press toward the mark
for the prize of the high calling of God in
Christ Jesus, And then he adds, let us there
fore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded.
But now, if the Apostle thought it
necessary for those who were in his state
of perfection, to be thus minded', that is,
thus labouring, pressing and aspiring after
some degrees of holiness, to which they were
not then arriv'd ; surely it is much more
necessary for us, who are born in the dregs
of time, and labouring under great imperfec
tions, to be thus minded; that is, thus earnest
and striving after such degrees of a holy and
divine life, as we have not yet attain'd.
The best way for any one to know how
much he ought to aspire after holiness, is
to consider, not how much will make his
present life easy, but to ask himself, how
much he thinks will make him easy at the
hour of death.
Now any man that dares be so serious as to
put this question to himself, will be forc'd to
answer, that at death every one will wish that
he
36 A Serious CALL
he had been as perfect as human nature
can be.
Is not this therefore sufficient to put us
not only upon wishing, but labouring after all
that perfection, which we shall then lament
the want of? Is it not excessive folly to be
content with such a course of piety as we
already know cannot content us, at a time
when we shall so want it, as to have nothing
else to comfort us ? How can we carry a
severer condemnation against our selves, than
to believe, that at the hour of death we shall
want the virtues of the Saints, and wish that
we had been amongst the first servants of
God, and yet take no methods of arriv
ing at their height of piety whilst we are
alive ?
Though this is an absurdity that we can
easily pass over at present, whilst the health
of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the
noise, and hurry, and pleasures, and business of
the world, lead us on with eyes that see not,
and ears that hear not, yet at death it will set it
self before us in a dreadful magnitude, it will
haunt us like a dismal Ghost, and our con
science will never let us take our. eyes from it.
We see in worldly matters, what a torment
self-condemnation is ; and how hardly a man
is able to forgive himself, when he has brought
himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely
by his own folly. The affliction is made doubly
tormenting ; because he is forc'd to charge it
all upon himself, as his own act and deed,
against
to a Devout and Holy Life 37
against the nature and reason of things, and
contrary to the advice of all his friends.
Now by this we may in some degree guess,
how terrible the pain of that self-condemna
tion will be, when a man shall find himself
in the miseries of death, under the severity
of a self-condemning conscience ; charging
all his distress upon his own folly, and mad
ness, against the sense and reason of his own
mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of
Religion, and contrary to all the instructions,
calls and warnings, both of God and man.
Penitens was a busy, notable tradesman,
and very prosperous in his dealings, but died
in the thirty-fifth year of his age.
A little before his death, when the doctors
had given him over, some of his neighbours
came one evening to see him ; at which time
he spake thus to them.
I see, says he, my friends, the tender
concern you have for me, by the grief that
appears in your countenances, and I know
the thoughts that you now have about me.
You think how melancholy a case it is to
see so young a man, and in such flourishing
business, delivered up to death. And perhaps,
had I visited any of you in my condition, I
should have had the same thoughts of you.
But now, my friends, my thoughts are no
more like your thoughts, than my condition
is like yours.
It is no trouble to me now to think that I
am to die young, or before I have rais'd an estate.
These
38 A Serious CALL
These things are now sunk into such mere
nothings^ that I have no name little enough
to call them by. For if in a few days, or
hours, I am to leave this carcase to be buried
in the earth, and to find my self either for
ever happy in the favour of God, or eter
nally separated from all light and peace, can
any words sufficiently express the littleness of
every thing else?
Is there any dream like the dream of life,
which amuses us with the neglect and disre
gard of these things ? Is there any folly like
the folly of our manly state, which is too
wise and busy to be at leisure for these re
flexions?
When we consider death as a misery, we
only think of it as a miserable separation
from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom
mourn over an old man that dies rich, but
we lament the young that are taken away in
the progress of their fortune. You your
selves look upon me with pity, not that I am
going unprepar'd to meet the Judge of quick
and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous
trade in the flower of my life.
This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts.
And yet what folly of the silliest children is
so great as this ?
For what is there miserable or dreadful in
death, but the consequences of it ? When a
man is dead, what does any thing signify
to him, but the state he is then in ?
Our
to a Devout and Holy Life 39
Our poor friend Lepldus dy'd, you know,
as he was dressing himself for -A. feast ; do you
think it is now part of his trouble, that he
did not live till that entertainment was over ?
Feasts, and business, and pleasures, and en
joyments, seem gre^t things to us, whilst we
think of nothing else ; but as soon as we add
death to them, they all sink into an equal
littleness ; and the soul that is separated from
the body, no more laments the loss of busi
ness, than the losing of a. feast.
If I am now going into the joys of God,
could there be any reason to grieve, that this
happen'd to me before I was forty years of
age ? Could it be a sad thing to go to
heaven, before I had made a few more
bargains, or stood a little longer behind a
counter ?
And if I am to go amongst lost spirits,
could there be any reason to be content, that
this did not happen to me till I was old, and
full of riches ?
If good Angels were ready to receive my
soul, could it be any grief to me, that I was
dying upon a poor bed in a garret ?
And if God has deliver'd me up to evil
spirits, to be dragg'd by them to places of
torments, could it be any comfort to me that
they found me upon a bed of state ?
When you are as near death as I am, you
will know, that all the different states of life,
whether of youth or age, riches or poverty,
greatness or meanness, signify no more to you,
than
4-O A Serious CALL
than whether you die in a poor or stately
apartment.
The greatness of those things which follow
death, makes all that goes before it sink into
nothing.
Now \Hte& judgment is th*e next thing that I
look for, and everlasting happiness or misery
is come so near me, all the enjoyments and
prosperities of life seem as vain and insignili-
cant, and to have no more to do with my
happiness, than the cloaths that I wore before
I could speak.
But, my friends, how am I surpriz'd that
I have not always had these thoughts ? for
what is there in the terrors of death, in the
vanities of life, or the necessities of piety, but
what I might have as easily and fully seen in
any part of my life ?
What a strange thing is it, that a little
health, or the poor business of a shop, should
keep us so senseless of these great things that
are coming so fast upon us !
Just as you came into my chamber, I was
thinking with my self, what numbers of souls
there are now in the world, in my condition
at this very time, surpriz'd with a summons
to the other world; some taken from their
shops and farms, others from their sports and
pleasures, these at suits at Law, those at
Gaming-tables, some on the road, others at
their own fire-sides, and all seiz'd at an hour
when they thought nothing of it ; frighted at
the approach of death, confounded at the va
nity
to a Devout and Holy Life 41
nity of all their labours, designs, and
projects, astonish'd at the folly of their past
lives, and not knowing which way to turn
their thoughts, to find any comfort. Their
consciences flying in their faces, bringing all
their sins to their remembrance, tormenting
them with deepest convictions of their own
folly, presenting them with the sight of the
angry Judge, the worm that never dies, the
fire that is never quench'd, the gates of hell,
the powers of darkness, and the bitter pains
of eternal death.
Oh my friends ! bless God that you are
not of this number, that you have time and
strength to employ your selves in such works
of piety, as may bring you peace at the last.
And take this along with you, that there
is nothing but a life of great piety, or a death
of great stupidity, that can keep off these
Apprehensions.
Had I now a thousand worlds^ I would
give them all for one year more, that I might
present unto God, one year of such devotion
and good works, as I never before so much
as intended.
You perhaps, when you consider that I
have liv'd free from scandal and debauchery,
and in the communion of the Church, wonder
to see me so full of remorse and self-condem
nation at the approach of death.
But alas ! what a poor thing is it, to have
liv'd only free from murder, theft and adul
tery, which is all that I can say of my self.
You
42 A Serious CALL
You know indeed, that I have never been
reckon'd a sot, but you are at the same time
witnesses, and have been frequent companions
of my intemperance, sensuality and great in
dulgence. And if I am now going to a
Judgment, where nothing will be rewarded
but good 'works, I may well be concern'd,
that tho' I am no sot, yet I have no Christian
sobriety to plead for me-
It is true, I have liv'd in the communion
of the Church, and generally frequented its
worship and service on Sundays, when I was
neither too idle, or not otherwise dispos'd of
by my business and pleasures. But then my
conformity to the public k worship has been
rather a thing of course, than any real inten
tion of doing that which the service of the
Church supposes ; had it not been so, I had
been oftner at Church, more devout when
there, and more fearful of ever neglecting it.
But the thing that now surprizes me above
all wonders is this, that I never had so much
as a general intention of living up to the piety
of the Gospel. This never so much as
enter'd into my head or my heart. I never
once in my life consider'd, whether I was
living as the laws of Religion direct, or
whether my way of life was such as would
procure me the mercy of God at this
hour
And can it be thought that I have kept
the Gospel terms of salvation, without ever
SJ much as intending in any serious and deli
berate
to a Devout and Holy Life 43
berate manner either to know them, or
keep them ? Can it be thought that I have
pleased God with such a life as he requires,
tho' I have liv'd without ever considering
what he requires, or how much I have
performed ? How easy a thing would
salvation be, if it could fall into my careless
hands, who have never had so much serious
thoughts about it, as about any one common
bargain that I have made ?
In the business of life I have used prudence
and reflection, I have done every thing by
rules and methods. I have been glad to
converse with men of experience and judg
ment, to find out the reasons why some fail,
and others succeed in any business. I have
taken no step in trade but with great care
and caution, considering every advantage or
danger that attended it. I have always had
my eye upon the main end of business, and
have study'd all the ways and means of being
a gainer by all that I undertook.
But what is the reason that- 1 have brought
none of these tempers to Religion ? What
is the reason that I, who have so often talk'd
of the necessity of riiles and methods^ and
diligence in worldly business, have all this
while never once thought of any rules, or
methods, or managements, to carry me on
in a life of Piety.
Do you think any thing can astonish, and
confound a dying man like this ? What pain
do you think a man must feel, when his con
science
44 A Serious CALL
science lays all this folly to his charge,
when it shall shew him how regular, exact,
and wise he has been in small matters, that
are passed away like a dream, and how stupid
and senseless he has liv'd, without any reflec
tion, without any rules, in things of such
eternal moment, as no heart can sufficiently
conceive them!
Had I only my frailties and imperfections
to lament at this time, I should lye here
humbly trusting in the mercies of God. But
alas ! how can I call a general disregard,
and a thorough neglect of all religious im
provement, a frailty or imperfection ; when
it was as much in my power to have been
exact, and careful, and diligent in a course
of piety, as in the business of my trade.
I could have calPd in as many helps,
have practised as many rules, and been
taught as many certain methods of holy living,
as of thriving in my shop, had I but so
intended and desired it.
Oh my friends ! a careless life, uncon-
cern'd and unattentive to the duties of
Religion, is so without all excuse, so un
worthy of the mercy of God, such a shame
to the sense and reason of our minds, that I
can hardly conceive a greater punishment,
than for a man to be thrown into the state
that I am in, to reflect upon it.
Penitens was here going on, but had his
mouth stopp'd by a convultiotr^ which never suf-
fer'd him to speak any more. He lay convuls'd
about
to a Devout and Holy Life 45
about twelve hours, and then gave up the
ghost.
Now if every reader would imagine this
Pemtens to have been some particular
acquaintance or relation of his, and fancy
that he saw and heard all that is here de
scribed, that he stood by his bed-side when
his poor friend lay in such distress and
agony, lamenting the folly of his past life,
it would in all probability teach him such
wisdom as never enter 'd into his heart before.
If to this, he should consider, how often he
himself might have been surprized in the
same state of negligence, and made an
example to the rest of the world, this double
reflection, both upon the distress of his friend,
and the goodness of that God, who had
preserv'd him from it, would in all likeli
hood soften his heart into holy tempers, and
make him turn the remainder of his life into
a regular course of piety.
This therefore being so useful a meditation,
I shall here leave the reader, as, I hope,
seriously engag'd in it.
CHAP
4.6 A Serious CALL
CHAP. TV
We 'can please God in no state, or employment
of life, but by intending and devoting //
all to his honour and Glory
"LJAVING in the first Chapter stated the
•*• •*• general nature of Devotion, and shewn,
that it implies not any form of Prayer, but a
certain form of life, that is offer 'd to God
not at any particular times, or places, but
every where and in every thing ; I shall now
descend to some particulars, and shew how
we are to devote our labour and employment,
our time and fortunes unto God.
As a good Christian should consider every
place as holy, because God is there, so he
should look upon every part of his life as a
matter of holiness, because it is to be offer'd
unto God.
The profession of a Clergyman, is an holy
profession, because it is a ministration in
holy things, an attendance at the Altar. But
worldly business is to be made holy unto the
Lord, by being done as a service to him, and,
in conformity to his divine will.
For as all men and all things in the World,
as truly belong unto God, as any places, things,
or persons that are devoted to divine service,
so all things are to be used, and all persons are
to
to a Devout and Holy Life 47
to act in their several states and employments
for the Glory of God.
Men of worldly business therefore must not
look upon themselves as at liberty to live to
themselves, to sacrifice to their own humours
and tempers, because their employment is of
a worldly nature. But they must consider,
that as the world and all worldly professions,
as truly belong to God, as persons and things
that are devoted to the Altar, so it is as
much the duty of men in worldly business
to live wholly unto God, as 'tis the duty
of those, who are devoted to divine service.
As the whole world is God's, so the
whole world is to act for God. As all
men have the same relation to God, as all
men have all their poivers and faculties from
God, so all men are oblig'd to act for God
with all their powers and faculties.
As all things are God's, so all things are
to be used and regarded as the things of
God. For men to abuse things on earth,
and live to themselves, is the same rebellion
against God, as for Angels to abuse things
in Heaven ; because God is just the same
Lord of all on earth, as he is the Lord of
all in Heaven.
Things may, and must differ in their use,
but yet they are all to be used according to
the will of God.
Men may, and must differ in their employ
ments, but yet they must all act for the same
ends, as dutiful servants of God, in the
n right
48
A Serious CALL
right and pious performance of their several
callings.
Clergymen must live wholly unto God in
one particular way, that is, in the exercise
of Holy offices, in the ministration of Prayers
and Sacraments, and a zealous distribution
of spiritual goods.
But men of other employments are in
their particular ways as much obliged to act
as the servants of God, and live wholly un
to him in their several callings.
This is the only difference between Clergy
men, and People of other callings.
When it can be shewn, that men might be
vain, covetous, sensual, worldly minded, or
proud in the exercise of their worldly business,
then it will be allowable for Clergymen to in
dulge the same tempers in their sacred profes
sion. For tho' these tempers are most odious
and most criminal in Clergymen, who besides
their baptismal vow, have a second time de
voted themselves to God, to be his servants,
not in the common offices of human life, but
in the spiritual service of the most holy sacred
things ; and who are therefore to keep them
selves as separate and different from the common
life of other men, as a Church or an Altar is
to be kept separate from houses and tables of
common use. Yet as all Christians- are by
their baptism devoted to God, and made pro
fessors of holiness, so are they all in their several
callings to live as holy and heavenly persons;
doing every thing in their common life
only
to a Devout and Holy Life 49
only in such a manner, as it may be received
by God, as a service done to him. For things
spiritual and temporal, sacred and common,
must, like men and angels, like heaven and
earth, all conspire in the glory of God.
As there is but one God and Father of us
all, whose Glory gives light and life to every
thing that lives ; whose presence fills all
places, whose power supports all beings,
whose providence rul.eth all events ; so every
thing that lives, whether in heaven or earth,
whether they be thrones or principalities, men
or angels, they must all with one spirit, live
wholly to the praise and glory of this one
God and Father of them all. Angels as
angels in their heavenly ministrations, but men
as men, 'women as women, bishops as bishops,
priests as priests, and deacons as deacons ;
some with things spiritual, and some with
things temporal, offering to God the daily
sacrifice of a reasonable life, wise actions,
purity of heart, and heavenly affections.
This is the common business of all persons
in this world. It is not left to any 'women
in the world to trifle away their time in the
follies and impertinencies of a fashionable life,
nor to any men to resign themselves up to
worldly cares and concerns ; it is not left to
the rich to gratify their passions in the in
dulgences and pride of life, nor to the poor to
vex and torment their hearts with the poverty
of their state ; but men and women, rich and
poor, must with bishops and priests, walk before
God
50 A Serious CALL
God in the same wise and holy spirit, in the
same denial of all vain tempers, and in the
same discipline and care of their souls ; not
only because they have all the same rational
nature, and are servants of the same God,
but because they all want the same holiness
to make them fit for the same happiness, to
which they are all called. It is therefore
absolutely necessary for all Christians, whether
men or women, to consider themselves as
persons that are devoted to holiness ; and
so order their common 'ways of life by such
rules of reason and piety, as may turn it into
continual service unto almighty God.
Now to make our labour or employment an
acceptable service unto God, we must carry it
on with the same spirit and temper that is re
quired in giving of alms, or any work of
piety. For, \£ whether <we eat or
,or. x. 31. firing or whatsoever <we do, <we
must do all to the glory of God ; if <we are to use
this eworld as if ive used it not ; if we are to
present our bodies a living sacri-
>m. xn. 7. to
ewe are to live by faith, and not by sight, and to
have our conversation in heaven ; then it is neces
sary that the common way of our life in every
state, be made to glorify God by such tempers,
as make our prayers and adorations acceptable
to him. For if we are worldly or earthly-
minded in our employments^ if they are carried
on with vain desires, and covetous tempers,
only to satisfy our selves, we can no more be
said
to a Devout and Holy Life 5 1
said to live to the glory of God, than gluttons
and drunkards can be said to eat and drink to
the glory of God.
As the glory of God is one and the same
thing, so whatever we do suitable to it, must
be done with one and the same spirit. That
same state and temper of mind, which makes
our alms and devotions acceptable, must also
make our labour or employment a proper offer
ing unto God. If a man labours to be rich,
and pursues his business, that he may raise
himself to a state of figure and glory in the
world, he is no longer serving God in his
employment ; he is acting under other masters,
and has no more title to a reward from God,
than he that gives alms that he may be seen,
or prays that he may be heard of men. For
vain and earthly .desires are no more allowable
in our employments, than in our alms and devo
tions. For these tempers of worldly pride,
and vain glory, are not only evil when they
mix with our good works, but they have the
same evil nature, and make us odious to God,
when they enter into the common business of
our employment. If it were allowable to in
dulge covetous or vain passions in our worldly
employments, it would then be allowable to be
vain-glorious in our devotions. But as our
alms and devotions are not an acceptable ser
vice, but when they proceed from a heart
truly devoted to God, so our common employ
ment cannot be reckon'd a service to him,
but
52 A Serious CALL
but when it is perform'd with the same temper
and piety of heart.
Most of the employments of life are in
their own nature lawful ; and all those that
are so, may be made a substantial part of our
duty to God, if we engage in them only so
far, and for such ends, as are suitable to
beings that are to live above the world, all the
time that they live in the world. This is the
only measure of our application to any worldly
business, let it be what it will, where it will,
it must have no more of our hands, our hearts,
or our time, than is consistent with an hearty,
daily, careful preparation of our selves for
another life. For as all Christians, as such,
have renounced this world, to prepare them
selves by daily devotion, and universal holiness,
for an eternal state of quite another nature,
they must look upon worldly employments,
as upon 'worldly 'wants, and bodily infirmities ;
things not to be desir'd, but only to be
endur'd and suffer'd, till death and the
resurrection has carry'd us to an eternal state
of real happiness.
Now he that does not look at the things of
this life in this degree of littleness, cannot be
said either to feel or believe the greatest truths
of Christianity. For if he thinks any thing
great or important in human business, can he
be said to feel or believe those Scriptures
which represent this life, and the greatest
things of life, as bubbles, vapours, dreams and
shado'ws.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 5 3
If he thinks Jigure, and shew, and worldly
glory, to be any proper happiness of a
Christian, how can he be said to feel or
believe this doctrine, Blessed are ye when men
shall hate you, and 'when they shall separate you
from their company, aud shall reproach you, and
cast out your name as evil for the Son of man s
sake ? For surely if there was any real
happiness in figure and shew, and 'worldly
glory ; if these things deserved our thoughts
and care, it could not be matter of the
highest joy, when we are torn from them by
persecutions and sufferings ? If, therefore, a
man will so live, as to shew that he feels and
believes the most fundamental doctrines of
Christianity, he must live above the world ?
this is the temper that must enable him to do
the business of life, and yet live wholly unto
God, and to go through some 'worldly em
ployment with a heavenly mind. And it is
as necessary that people live in their employ
ments with this temper, as it is necessary that
their employment it self be lawful.
The husbandman that tilleth the ground,
is employ'd in an honest business, that is
necessary in life, and very capable of being
made an acceptable service unto God.' But if
he labours and toils, not to serve any reason
able ends of life, but in order to have his
plow made of silver, and to have his horses
harnessed in gold, the honesty of his em
ployment is lost as to him, and his labour
becomes his folly.
A trades-
54 A Serious CALL
A tradesman may justly think, that it is
agreeable to the will of God, for him to sell
such things as are innocent and useful in life,
such as help both himself, and others, to a
reasonable support, and enable them to assist
those that want to be assisted. But if instead
of this, he trades only with regard to himself,
without any other rule than that of his own
temper, if it be his chief end in it to grow
rich, that he may live \nfigure and indulgence,
and be able to retire from business to idleness
and luxury, his trade, as to him, loses all its
innocency, and is so far from being an accept
able service to God, that it is only a more plau
sible course of covetousness, self-love and ambi
tion. For such a one turns the necessities of
employment into pride and covetousness, just
as the sot and epicure turn the necessities of
eating and drinking into gluttony and drunken
ness. Now he that is up early and late,
that sweats and labours for these ends, that
he may be some time or other rich, and live
in pleasure and indulgence, lives no more to
the glory of God, than he that plays and
games for the same ends. For though there is
a great difference between trading and gaming,
yet most of that difference is lost, when men
once trade with the same desires and tempers,
and for the same ends that others game. Charity
andjjtie dressing, are things very different, but
if men give alms for the same reasons that
others dress fine, only to be seen and admir'd,
charity is then but like the vanity of fine
cloaths
to a Devout and Holy Life 5 5
cloaths. In like manner, if the same motives
make some people painful and industrious in
their trades, which make ochers constant at
gaming, such pains is but like the pains of
gaming.
Calidus has traded above thirty years in
the greatest city of the kingdom ; he has been
so many years constantly increasing his trade
and his fortune. Every hour of the day is
with him an hour of business ; and though
he eats and drinks very heartily, yet every
meal seems to be in a hurry, and he would
say grace if he had time. Calidus ends every
day at the tavern, but has not leisure to be
there till near nine a clock. He is always
forc'd to drink a good hearty glass, to drive
thoughts of business out of his head, and
make his spirits drowsy enough for sleep.
He does business all the time that he is
rising, and has settled several matters before
he can get to his comptmg-room. His prayers
are a short ejaculation or two, which he never
misses in stormy tempestuous weather, because
he has always something or other at Sea.
Calidus will tell you with great pleasure, that he
has been in this hurry for so many years, and
that it must have kill'd him long ago, but that it
has been a rule with him to get out of the town
every Saturday, and make the Sunday a day
of quiet and good refreshment in the countryo
He is now so rich, that he would leave off
his business, and amuse his old age with build
ing and furnishing a fine house in the country,
but
56 A Serious CALL
but that he is afraid he should grow melan
choly, if he was to quit his business. He
will tell you with great gravity, that it is a
dangerous thing for a man, that has been
us'd to get money, ever to leave it off.
If thoughts of Religion happen at any time
to steal into his head, Calidus contents him
self with thinking, that he never was a
friend to hereticks and injidels, that he has
always been civil to the Minister of his
parish, and very often given something to
the charity-schools.
Now this way of life is at such a distance
from all the doctrines and discipline of Chris
tianity, that no one can live in it through ignor
ance or frailty. Cahdus can no more imagine,
that he is born again of the
St. John. iii. spirit ; that he is in Christ a new
i Pet. ii. ii. creature; that he lives here as a
Collos. iii. i. stranger and pilgrim, setting his
affections upon things above, and
laying up treasures in heaven. He can no more
imagine this, than he can think that he has
been all his life an Apostle, working Miracles,
and preaching the Gospel.
It must also be own'd, that the generality
of trading people, especially in great toivns,
are too much like Calidus. You see them all
the week bury'd in business, unable to think of
any thing else ; and then spending the Sunday
in idleness and refreshment, in wandring into
the country, in such visits and jovial meetings,
as make it often the worst day of the week.
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 57
Now they do not live thus, because they
cannot support themselves with less care and
application to business ; but they live thus,
because they want to grow rich in their
trades, and to maintain their families in some
such figure and degree of faery as a reason
able Christian life has no occasion for. Take
away but this temper, and then people of all
trades, will find themselves at leisure to live
every day like Christians, to be careful of
every duty of the Gospel, to live in a visible
course of Religion, and be every day strict
observers both of private and public k Prayer.
Now the only way to do this, is for people
to consider their trade as something that they
are oblig'd to devote to the glory of God,
something that they are to do only in such a
manner, as that they may make it a duty to
him. Nothing can be right in business, that is
not under these rules. — The Apostle com
mands servants, to be obedient to their masters in
singleness of heart as unto Christ. Not with eye-
service as men pleasers, but as the
servants of Christ, doing the 'will Ephes. vi. 5.
of God from the heart. With good C°U- iiL 22'
ewill doing service as unto the Lord,
and not to men.
This passage sufficiently shews, that all
Christians are to live wholly unto God in every
state and condition, doin,g the work of their
common calling in such a manner, and for such
ends, as to make it a part of their devotion or
service to God. For certainly if poor slaves
are
58 A Serious CALL
are not to comply with their business as men
pleasers, if they are to look wholly unto
God in all their actions, and serve in
singleness of heart, as unto the Lord, surely
men of other employments and conditions
must be as much obliged to go thro' their
business with the same singleness of heart;
not as pleasing the vanity of their own minds,
not as gratifying their own selfish, worldly
passions, but as the servants of God in all
that they have to do. For surely no one
will say, that a slave is to devote his state of
life unto God, and make the will of God,
the sole rule and end of his service, but that
a tradesman need not act with the same spirit
of devotion in his business. For this is as
absurd as to make it necessary for one man
to be more just or faithful than another.
It is therefore absolutely certain, that no
Christian is to enter any farther into business,
nor for any other ends, than such as he can
in singleness of heart offer unto God, as a
reasonable service. For the Son of God has
redeem'd us for this only end, that we should
by a life of reason and piety live to the glory
of God ; this is the only rule and measure for
every order and state of life. Without this
rule the most lawful employment, becomes a
sinful state of life.
Take away this from the life of a Clergyman,
and his holy profession serves only to expose
him to a greater damnation. Take away this
from tradesmen, and shops are but so many
houses of greediness and filthy lucre. Take
away
to a "Devout and Holy Life 59
away this from gentlemen, and the course
of their life, becomes a course of sensuality,
pride and wantonness. Take away this rule
from our tables , and all falls into gluttony
and drunkenness. Take away this measure
from our dress and habits, and all is turn'd
into such paint, and glitter, and ridiculous
ornaments as are a real shame to the
wearer. Take away this from the use of
our fortunes, and you will find people sparing
in nothing but charity. Take away this from
our diversions, and you will find no sports too
silly, nor any entertainments too vain and
corrupt to be the pleasure of Christians.
If therefore we desire to live unto God,
it is necessary to bring our 'whole life under
this law, to make his glory the sole rule and
measure of our acting in every employment
of life. For there is no other true devotion,
but this of living devoted to God in the
common business of our lives.
So that men must not content themselves
with the lawfulness of their employments,
but must consider whether they use them, as
they are to use every thing, as strangers and
pilgrims, that are baptiz'd into
the resurrection of Jesus Col. Hi. i.
Christ, that are to follow him IP,et- xv- '$
' . , 7 , Ephes. v. 26,
in a wise and heavenly course 2
of life, in the mortification
of all worldly desires, and in purifying and
preparing their souls for the blessed enjoy
ment of God.
For
60 A Serious CALL
For to be vain, or proud, or covetous,
or ambitious in the common course of our
business, is as contrary to these holy tempers
of Christianity, as cheating and dishonesty.
If a glutton was to say in excuse of his
gluttony, that he only eats such things as
it is lawful to eat, he would make as good
an excuse for himself, as the greedy, covetous,
ambitious tradesman, that should say, he only
deals in lawful business. For as a Christian
is not only required to be honest, but to be
of a Christian spirit, and make his life an
exercise of humility, repentance and heavenly
affection, so all tempers that are contrary to
these, are as contrary to Christianity, as
cheating is contrary to honesty.
So that the matter plainly comes to this, all
.irregular tempers in trade and business, are but
like irregular tempers in eating and drinking.
Proud vieius, and vain desires in our worldly
employments, are as truly vices and corrup
tions, as hypocrisy in prayer, or vanity in alms.
And there can be no reason given, why vanity
in our alms, should make us odious to God,
but what will prove any other kind of pride
to be equally odious. He that labours and
toils in a calling, that he may make a figure
in the world, and draw the eyes of People up
on the splendor of his condition, is as far from
the pious humility of a Christian, as he that
gives alms that he may be seen of men. For
the reason, why pride and vanity in our
prayers and alms renders them an unacceptable
service
to a Devout and Holy Life 6 1
service to God, is not because there is any
thing particular in prayers and alms that
cannot allow of pride, but because pride is
in no respect, nor in any thing made jor
man ; it destroys the piety of our prayers
and alms, because it destroys the piety of
every thing that it touches, and renders every
action that it governs, incapable of being
offer'd unto God.
So that if we could so divide our selves,
as to be humble in some respects, and proud in
others, such humility would be of no service
to us, because God requires us as truly to be
humble in all our actions and designs, as to be
true and honest in all our actions and designs.
And as a man is not honest and true,
because he is so to a great many People, or
upon several occasions, but because truth and
honesty is the measure of all his dealings
with every body ; so the case is the same
in humility, or any other temper, it must
be the general ruling habit of our minds,
and extend it self to all our actions and
designs, before it can be imputed to us.
We indeed sometimes talk, as if a man
might be humble in some things, and proud in
others, humble in his dress but proud of his
learning, humble in his person, but proud in his
views and designs,, But tho' this may pass in
common discourse, where few things are said
according to strict truth, it cannot be allow'd
when we examine into the nature of our actions.
It
62 A Serious CALL
It is very possible for a man that lives
by cheating, to be very punctual in paying
for what he buys ; but then every one is
assur'd, that he does not do so, out of any
principle of true honesty.
In like manner it is very possible for a
man, that is proud of his estate, ambitious
in his views, or vain of his learning, to
disregard his dress, and person, in such a
manner -as a truly humble man would do ;
but to suppose that he does so out of a
true principle of religious humility, is full
as absurd, as to suppose that a cheat pays
for what he buys, out of a principle of
religious honesty.
As therefore all kinds of dishonesty destroy
our pretences to an honest principle of mind,
so all kinds of pride destroy our pretences to
an humble spirit.
No one wonders that those prayers, and
alms, which proceed from pride and ostenta
tion are odious to God ; but yet it is as easie
to shew, that pride is as pardonable there,
as any where else.
If we could suppose, that God rejects pride
in our prayers and alms, but bears with pride
in our dress, our persons, or estates, it would
be the same thing as to suppose that God con
demns falsehood in some actions, but allows
it in othersc For pride in one thing differs
from pride in another thing, as the robbing of
one man differs from the robbing of another.
Again
to a Devout and Holy Life 6 j
Again, if pride and ostentation is so odious
that it destroys the merit and 'worth of the
most reasonable actions, surely it must be
equally odious in those actions, which are
only founded in the weakness and infirmity of
our nature. As thus, alms are commanded
by God, as excellent in themselves, as true
instances of a divine temper, but cloaths are
only allow 'd to cover our shame ; . surely
therefore it must a.t least be as odious a
degree of pride to be vain in our cloaths, as
to be vain in our alms.
Again, we are commanded to pray without
ceasing^ as a means of rendering our souls
more exalted and divine, but we are for
bidden to lay up treasures upon earth ; and
can we think that it is not as bad, to be vain
of those treasures , which we are forbidden to
lay up, as to be vain of those prayers, which
we are commanded to make.
Women are requir'd to have their heads
cover d, and to adorn themselves with shanp-
facedness ; if therefore they are
vain in those things which are * Cor' xl-
expressly forbidden, if they \\-\m \\
patch and paint that part, which
can only be adorn'd by shamefacedness,
surely they have as much to repent of for
such a pride, as they have* whose pride is
the motive to their prayers and charity.
This must be granted, unless we will say,
that it is more pardonable to glory in our
shame, than to glory in our virtue.
E • All
64
A Serious CALL
All these instances are only to shew us
the great necessity of such a regular and
uniform piety, as extends it self to all the
actions of our common life.
That we must eat and drink, and dress
and discourse according to the sobriety of the
Christian spirit, engage in no employments
but such as we can truly devote unto God,
nor pursue them any farther, than so far as
conduces to the reasonable ends of a holy
devout life.
That we must be honest, not only on parti
cular occasions, and in such instances as are
applauded in the world, easy to be perform'd
and free from danger, or loss, but from such
a living principle of justice, as makes us love
truth and integrity in all its instances, follow
it through all dangers, and against all oppo
sition ; as knowing that the more we pay for
any truth, the better is our bargain, and that
then our integrity becomes a pearl, when we
haye parted with all to keep it.
That we must be humble, not only in such
instances as are expected in the world, or suit
able to our tempers, or confin'd to particular
occasions, but in such an humility of spirit, as
renders us meek and lowly in the 'whole
course of our lives, as shews it self in our
dress, our person, our conversation, our enjoyment
of the world, the tranquility of our minds,
patience under injuries, submission to superiors,
and condescentions to those that are below us,
and in all the outward actions of our lives.
That
to a Devout and Holy Life 65
That we must devote, not only times and
places to prayer, but be every-where in the
spirit of devotion, with hearts always set to
wards heaven, looking up to God in all our
actions, and doing every thing as his servants,
living in the world as in a holy temple of
God, and always worshipping him, though
not with our lips, yet with the thankfulness of
our hearts, the holiness of our actions, and
the pious and charitable use of all his gifts.
That we must not only send up petitions
and thoughts now and then to heaven, but
must go through all our worldly business with
an heavenly spirit, as members of Christ's
mystical body, that with new hearts, and new
minds, are to turn an earthly life into a pre
paration for a life of greatness and glory in
the kingdom of heaven.
Now the only way to arrive at this piety
of spirit, is to bring all your actions to the
same rule as your devotions and alms. You
very well know what it is, that makes the
piety of your alms or devotions ; now the
same rules, the same regard to God, must
render every thing else that you do, a fit and
acceptable service unto God.
Enough, I hope, has been said, to shew
you the necessity of thus introducing Religion
into all the actions of your common life, and
of living and acting with the same regard to
God in all that you do, as in your prayers
and alms.
Eating
66 A Serious CALL
is one of the lowest actions of our
lives, it is common to us with mere animals,
yet we see that the piety of all ages of the
world, has turned this ordinary action of an
animal life, into a piety to God, by making
every meal to begin and end with devotion.
We see yet some remains of this custom in
most Christian families ; some such little for
mality, as shews you, that people us'd to call
upon God at the beginning and end of their
meals. But, indeed, it is now generally so
perform'd, as to look more like a mockery
upon devotion, than any solemn application of
the mind unto God. In one house you may
perhaps see the head of the family just pulling
off his hat, in another half getting up from
his seat ; another shall, it may be, proceed so
far, as to make as if he said something ; but,
however, these little attempts are the remains
of some devotion that was formerly us'd at
such times, and are proofs that religion has
formerly belong'd to this part of common
life.
But to such a pass are we now come, that
though the custom is yet preserv'd, yet we
can hardly bear with him, that seems to per
form it with any degree of seriousness, and
look upon it as a sign of a fanatical temper,
if a man has not done as soon as he begins.
I would not be thought to plead for the
necessity of long prayers at these times ; but
thus much I think may be said, that if
prayer is proper at these times, we ought to
oblige
to a Devout and Holy Life 67
oblige our selves to use such a form of words,
as should shew, that we solemnly appeal to
God for such graces and blessings as are then
proper to the occasion. Otherwise the mock
ceremony, instead of blessing our victuals,
does but accustom us to trifle with devotion,
and give us a habit of being unaffected with
our prayers.
If every head of a family was, at the re
turn of every meal, to oblige himself to make
a solemn adoration of God, in such a decent
manner, as becomes a devout mind, it would
be very likely to teach him, that swearing,
sensuality, gluttony, and loose discourse, were
very -'mproper at those meals, which were to
begin and end with devotion.
And if in these days of general corruption,
this part of devotion is fallen into a mock
ceremony, it must be imputed to this cause,
that sensuality and intemperance have got too
great a power over us, to suffer us to add any
devotion to our meals. But thus much must
be said, that when we are as pious as Jews
and Heathens of all ages have been, we shall
think it proper to pray at the beginning and
end of our meals.
I have appealed to this pious custom of all
ages of the world, as a proof of the reason
ableness of the doctrine of this and the fore
going chapters ; that is, as a proof that
religion is to be the rule and measure of all the
actions of ordinary life. For surely, if we are
not to eat, but under such rules of devotion,
68 A Serious CALL
it must plainly appear, that whatever else
we do, must in its proper way, be done with
the same regard to, the glory of God, and
agreeably to the principles of a devout and
pious mind.
CHAP. V
Persons that are free from the necessity of
labour and employments^ are to consider
themselves as devoted to God in a higher
degree
RE AT part of the world are free from
the necessities of labour and employ
ments, and have their time and fortunes in
their own disposal.
But as no one is to live in his employment
according to his own humour, or for such
ends as please his own fancy, but is to do all
his business in such a manner, as to make it
a service unto God ; so those who have no
particular employment, are so far from being
left at greater liberty to live to themselves, to
pursue their own humours, and spend their
time and fortunes as they please, that they
are under greater obligations of living wholly
unto God in all their actions.
The yraY/o/w of their state lays them under
a greater necessity of always chusing and doing
the best things.
They
to a Devout and Holy Life 69
They are those, of whom much will be
required, because much is given unto them.
A slave can only live unto God in one
particular way ; that is, by religious patience
and submission in his state of slavery.
But all ways of holy living, all instances,
and all kinds of virtue, lie open to those,
who are masters of themselves, their time
and their fortune.
It is as much the duty, therefore, of sucli
persons, to make a wise use of their liberty,
to devote themselves to all kinds of virtue,
to aspire after every thing that is holy and
pious, to endeavour to be eminent in all good
works, and to please God in the highest and
most perfect manner ; it is as much their
duty to be thus wise in the conduct of them
selves, and thus extensive in their endeavours
after holiness, as it is the duty of a slave to
be resign d unto God in his state of slavery.
You are no labourer,, or tradesman, you are
neither merchant, nor soldier ; consider your
self, therefore, as plac'd in a state, intsome
degree like that of good angels, who are sent
into the world as ministring spirits, for the
general good of mankind, to assist, protect
and minister for them who shall be heirs of
salvation,
For the more you are free from the common
necessities of men, the more you are to imitate
the higher perfections of angels.
Had you, Serena, been obliged by the neces
sities of life, to wash cloaths for your main
tenance
jo A Serious CALL
tenance, or to wait upon some mistress,
that demanded all your labour, it would then
be your duty to serve and glorify God, by
such humility, obedience, and faithfulness, as
might adorn that state of life.
It would then be recommended to your
care, to improve that one talent to its greatest
height. That when the time came, that man
kind were to be rewarded for their labours
by the great Judge of quick and dead, you
might be receiv'd with a well done good
and faithful servant, enter thou
o/. JVIat. xxv. . i f. i -T j
into the joy oj thy L*ord.
But as God has given you Jvoe talents, as
he has placed you above the necessities of
life, as he has left you in the hands of your
self, in the happy liberty of chusing the
most exalted ways of virtue, as he has
enrich 'd you with many gifts of fortune, and
left you nothing to do, but to make the best
use of variety of blessings, to make the most
of a short life, to study your own perfection,
the honour of God, and the good of your
neighbour ; so it is now your duty to imitate
the greatest servants of God, to enquire how
the most eminent saints have liv'd, to study
all the arts and methods of perfection, and to
set no bounds to your love and gratitude to
the bountiful author of so many blessings.
It is now your duty to turn your Jive talents
into five more, and to consider how your time,
and leisure, and health, and fortune, may be
made so many happy means of purifying your
own
to a Devout and Holy Life 7 1
own soul, improving your fellow-creatures
in the ways of virtue, and of carrying
you at last to the greatest heights of eternal
glory.
As you have no mistress to serve, so let
your own soul be the object of your daily
care and attendance. Be sorry for its im
purities, its spots and imperfections, and
study all the holy arts of restoring it to its
natural and primitive purity.
Delight in its service, and beg of God
to adorn it with every grace and perfection.
Nourish it with good works, give it peace
in solitude, get it strength in prayer, make it
wise with reading, enlighten it by meditation,
make it tender with love, sweeten it with
humility, humble it with penance, enliven it
with Psalms and Hymns, and comfort it with
frequent refactions upon future glory. Keep
it in the presence of God, and teach it to
imitate those guardian angels, which though
they attend on human affairs, and the lowest
of mankind, yet always behold
,/ r r v <L L- I St. Mat. xviii.
the face oj our father which
is in heaven.
This, Serena, is your profession. For as
sure as God is one God, so sure is it, that
he has but one command to all mankind,
whether they be bond or free, rich or poor ;
and that is, to act up to the excellency of
that nature which he has given them, to live
by reason, to walk in the fight of religion, to
use every thing as wisdom directs, to glorify
God
72 A Serious CALL
God in all his gifts, and dedicate every
condition of life to his service.
This is the one common command of God
to all mankind. If you have an employment,
you are to be thus reasonable, and pious and
holy in the exercise of it ; if you have time
and a fortune in your own power, you are
oblig'd to be thus reasonable, and holy, and
pious, in the use of all your time, and all
your fortune.
The right religious use of every thing, and
every talent, is the indispensable duty of every
being that is capable of knowing right and
wrong.
For the reason why we are to do <inv
thing, as unto God, and with regard to our
duty, and relation to him, is the same reason
why we are to do every thing as unto God, and
with regard to our duty, and relation to him.
That which is a reason for our being wise
and holy in the discharge of all our business,
is the same reason for our being wise and
holy in the use of all our money.
As we have always the same natures, and
are every-where the servants of the same
God, as every place is equally full of his
presence, and every thing is equally his gift,
so we must always act according to the reason
ot our nature; we must do every thing as
the servants of God ; we must live in every
place, as in his presence ; we must use every
thing, as that ought to be us'd, which belongs
to God.
Either
to a Devout and Holy Life 73
Either this piety, and wisdom, and de
votion is to go thro' every way of life, and
to extend to the use of every thing, or it is
to go through no part of life.
If vc might forget our selves, or forget
God, if we might disregard our reason, and
live by humour and fancy in any thing, or at
any time, or in any place, it would be as
lawful to do the same in every thing, at every
time, and every place.
If therefore some People fancy, that they
must be grave and solemn at Church, but
may be silly and frantick at home ; that they
must live by some rule on the Sunday, but
may spend other days by chance ; that they
must have some times of Prayer, but may
waste the rest of their time as they please,
that they must give some money in charity,
but may squander away the rest as they have
a mind ; such People have not enough con-
sider'd the nature of Religion, or the true
reasons of Piety. For he that upon prin
ciples of reason can tell, why it is good to
be wise and heavenly-minded at Church, can
tell that it's always desirable, to have the
same tempers in all other places. He that
truly knows, why he should spend any time
well, knows that it is never allowable to
throw any time away. He that rightly
understands the reasonableness, and excellency
of Charity, will know, that it can never be
excusable to waste any of our money in pride
and folly, or in any needless expences.
For
74 A Serious CALL
For every argument that shews the wisdom
and excellency of Charity, proves the wisdom
of spending all our fortune well. Every argu
ment that proves the wisdom and reasonableness
of having times of prayer, shews the wisdom
and reasonableness of losing none of our time.
If any one could shew, that we need not
always act as in the divine presence, that we
need not consider and use every thing, as the
gift of God, that^we need not always live
by reason, and make Religion the rule of
all our actions, the same arguments would
shew, that we need never act as in the
presence of God," nor make Religion and
reason the measure of any of our actions.
If therefore we are to live unto God at
any time, or in any place, we are to live
unto him at all times, and all places. If
we are to use any thing as the gift of God,
we are to use every thing as his gift. If
we are to do any thing by strict rules of
reason and piety, we are to do every thing
in the same manner. Because reason, and
'wisdom, and piety are as much the best things
at a/1 times, and in all places, as they are the
best things at any time, or in any place.
If it is our glory and happiness to have a
rational nature, that is endued with wisdom
and reason, that is capable of imitating the
Divine nature, then it must be our glory and
happiness, to improve our reason and wisdom,
to# act up to the excellency of our rational
nature, and to imitate God in all our actions,
to the utmost of our power. They therefore
who
to a Devout and Holy Life 75
who confine Religion to times and places, and
some little rules of retirement, who think that
it is being too strict and rigid to introduce
religion into common life, and make it give
laws to all their actions and ways of living,
they who think thus, not only mistake, but
they mistake the whole nature of Religion.
For surely they mistake the whole nature of
Religion, who can think, any part of their
life is made more easy, for being free <from it.
They may well be said to mistake the whole
nature of wisdom, who don't think it desirable,
to be always wise. He has not learnt the nature
of piety, who thinks it too much to be pious in
all his actions. He does not sufficiently under
stand what reason is, who does not earnestly
desire to live in every thing according to it.
If we had a Religion that consisted in
absurd superstitions, that had no regard to the
perfection of our nature, People might well
be glad to have some part of their life excused
from it. But as the Religion of the Gospel
is only the refinement, and exaltation of our
best faculties, as it only requires a life of the
highest Reason, as it only requires us to use
this world as in reason it ought to be used,
to live in such tempers as are the glory of
intelligent beings, to walk in such wisdom as
exalts our nature, and to practise such piety,
as will raise us to God ; who can think it
grievous, to live always in the spirit of such a
Religion, to have every part of his life full of it,
but he that would think it much more grievous,
to be as the Angels of God in heaven ?
Farther
76
A Serious CALL
Farther, as God is one and the same being,
always acting like himself, and suitably to his
own nature, so it is the duty of every being
that he has created, to live according to the
nature that he has given it, and always to act
like it self.
It is therefore an immutable law of God,
that all rational beings should act reasonably
in all their actions ; not at this time, or in that
place, o» upon this occasion, or in the use of
some particular thing, but at all times, in all
places, at all occasions, and in the use of all
things. This is a law that is as unchangeable
as God, and can no more cease to be, than God
can cease to be a God of wisdom and order.
When therefore any being that is endued
with reason, does an unreasonable thing at any
time, or in any place, or in the use of any
thing, it sins against the great law of its
nature, abuses its self, and sins against God
the author of that nature.
They therefore who plead for indulgences
and vanities, for any foolish fashions, customs
and humours of the world, for the misuse of
our time or money, plead for a rebellion against
our nature, for a rebellion against God, who
has given us reason for no other end, than to
make it the rule and measure of all our ways
of life.
When therefore you are guilty of my folly
or extravagance, or indulge any vain temper,
don't consider it as a small matter, because it
may seem so, if compared to some other sins ;
but
to a Devout and Holy Life
77
but consider it, as it is acting contrary to your
nature, and then you will see that there is
nothing small, that is unreasonable. Because
all unreasonable ways, are contrary to the
nature of all rational beings, whether men, or
Angels. Neither of which can be any longer
agreeable to God, than so far as they act
according to the reason and excellence of their
nature.
The infirmities of human life make such
food and raiment necessary for us, as Angels do
not want ; but then it is no more allowable
for us to turn these necessities into follies, and
indulge our selves in the luxury otfood, or the
vanities of dress, than it is allowable for
Angels to act below the dignity of their
proper state. For a reasonable life, and a
wise use of our proper condition, is as much
the duty of all men, as it is the duty of all
Angels and intelligent beings. These are not
speculative flights, or imaginary notions, but
are plain and undeniable laws, that are founded
in the nature of rational beings, who as such
are obliged to live by reason, and glorify God
by a continual right use of their several talents
and faculties. So that tho' men are not Angels,
yet they may know for what ends, and by
what rules men are to live and act, by consider
ing the state and perfection of Angels. Our
blessed Saviour has plainly turn'd our thoughts
this way, by making this petition a constant
part of all our Prayers, Thy 'will be done on
earth, as it is in heaven. A plain proof, that
the
78 A Serious CALL
the obedience of men, is to imitate the obedi
ence of Slngels, and that rational beings on
earth, are to live unto God, as rational beings
in Heaven live unto him.
When therefore you would represent to
your mind, how Christians ought to live unto
God, and in what degrees of wisdom and
holiness, they ought to use the things of this
life, you must not look at the world, but you
must look up to God, and the society of
Angels, and think what wisdom and holiness
is fit to prepare you for such a state of glory.
You must look to all the highest precepts of
the Gospel, you must examine your self by
the spirit of Christ, you must think how the
'wisest men in the world have liv'd, you
must think how departed souls would live, if
they were again to act the short part of human
life, you must think what degrees of wisdom
and holiness, you will wish for, when you are
leaving the World.
Now all this is not over-straining the
matter, or proposing to our selves, any need
less perfection. It is but barely comply
ing with the Apostle's advice, where he
says, Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are
true, 'whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
things are pure, whatsoever
Phil. iv. 8. things are of good report ; if
there be any virtue, and if
there be any praise f think on these things. For
no one can come near the doctrine of this
passage, but he that proposes to himself to do
every
to a 'Devout and Holy Life 79
every thing in this life as the servant of God,
to live by reason in every thing that he does,
and to make the wisdom and holiness of the
Gospel, the rule and measure of his desiring
and using every gift of God.
CHAP. VI
Containing the great obligations, and the great
advantages of making a 'wise and religious
use of our estates and fortunes
A S the holiness of Christianity consecrates
•f'f all states and employments of life unto
God, as it requires us to aspire after an uni
versal obedience, doing and using every thing
as the servants of God, so are we more especi
ally oblig'd to observe this religious exactness,
in the use of our estates and fortunes.
The reason of this would appear very
plain, if we were only to consider, that .our
estate is as much the gift of God, as our
eyes, or our hands, and is no more to be
buried, or thrown away at pleasure, than
we are to put out our eyes, or throw away
our limbs, as we please.
But besides this consideration, there are
several other great and important reasons,
why we should be religiously exact in the
use of our estates.
F First
80 A Serious CALL
First, Because the manner of using our
money, or spending our estate, enters so far
into the business of every day, and makes
so great a part of our common life, that our
common life must be much of the same nature,
as our common tvay of spending our estate.
If reason and religion govern us in this, then
reason and religion hath got great hold of
us ; but if humour, pride, and fancy, are the
measures of our spending our estate, then
humour, pride and fancy, will have the
direction of the greatest part of our life.
Secondly, Another great reason for de
voting all our estate to right uses, is this,
because it is capable of being used to the
most excellent purposes, and is so great a
means of doing good. If we waste it, we
don't waste a trifle, that signifies little, but
we waste that which might be made as eyes
to the blind, as a husband to the widow, as a
father to the orphan : We waste that, which
not only enables us to minister worldly com
forts to those that are in distress, but that
which might purchase for our selves everlasting
treasures in heaven. So that if we part with
our money in foolish ways, we part with a
great power of comforting our fellow creatures,
and of making our selves for ever blessed.
If there be nothing so glorious as doing
good, if there is nothing that makes us so
like to God, then nothing can be so glorious
in the use of our money, as to use it all in
works of love and goodness, making our
selves
to a Devout and Holy Life 8 i
selves friends, and fathers, and benefactors, to
all our fellow-creatures, imitating the divine
love, and turning all our power into acts of
generosity, care and kindness, to such as are
in need of it.
If a man had eyes, and hands, and feet,
that he could give to those that wanted them ;
if he should either lock them up in a chest,
or please himself with some needless or
ridiculous use of them, instead of giving
them to his brethren that were blind and
lame, should we not justly reckon him an
inhuman wretch ? If he should rather chuse
to amuse himself with furnishing his house
with those things, than to entitle himself to
an eternal reward, by giving them to those
that wanted eyes and hands, might we not
justly reckon him mad ?
Now money has very much the nature of
eyes and feet ; if we either lock it up in chests,
or waste it in need/ess and ridiculous expences
upon our selves, whilst the poor and the
distressed want it for their necessary uses, if
we consume it in the ridiculous ornaments of
apparel, whilst others are starving in naked
ness, we are not far from the cruelty of him
that chuses rather to adorn his house with
the hands and eyes, than to give them to
those that want them. If we chuse to indulge
our selves in such expensive enjoyments, as
have no real use in them, such as satisfy no
real 'want, rather than to entitle our selves
to an eternal reward, by disposing of our
money
82 A Serious CALL
money well, we are guilty of his madness,
that rather chuses to lock up eyes and hands,
than to make himself for ever blessed, by
giving them to those that want them.
For after we have satisfy'd our own sober
and reasonable wants, all the rest of our
money is but like spare eyes, or hands, it
is something that we cannot keep to our
selves, without being foolish in the use of
it, something that can only be us'd well,
by giving it to those that want it.
Thirdly, if we waste our money, we are
not only guilty of wasting a talent which
God has given .us, we are not only guilty
of making that useless, which is so powerful
a means of doing good, but we do our selves
this farther harm, that we turn this useful
talent into a powerful means of corrupting our
selves ; because so far as it is spent wrong,
so far it is spent in the support of some
wrong temper, in gratifying , some vain and
unreasonable desires, in conforming to those
fashions, and pride of the world, which as
Christians and reasonable men, we are obliged
to renounce.
As w/Vand {me parts cannot be trifled away,
and only lost, but will expose those that have
them into greater follies, if they are not strictly
devoted to piety ; so money, if it is not us'd
strictly according to reason and religion, can
not only be trifled away, but it will betray
people into greater follies, and make them
live a more silly and extravagant life, than
they
to a Devout and Holy Life 8 3
they could have done without it. If, there
fore, you don't spend your money in doing
good to others, you must spend it to the hurt
of your self. You will act, like a man, that
should refuse to give that as a cordial to a sick
friend, though he could not drink it himself
without inflaming his blood. For this is the
case of superfluous money ; if you giv€ it to
those that want it, it is a cordial; if you
spend it upon your self in something that you
do not want, it only inflames and disorders
your mind, and makes you worse than you
would be without it. t
Consider again the foremention'd compari
son ; if the man that would not make a
right use of spare eyes and hands, should by
continually trying to use them himself, spoil
his own eyes and hands, we might justly
accuse him of still greater madness.
Now this is truly the case of riches spent
upon our selves in vain and needless expences ;
in trying to use-them where they have no real
use, nor we any real want, we only use them
to our great hurt, in creating unreasonable de
sires, in nourishing ill tempers, in indulging our
passions, and supporting a worldly, vain turn
of mind. For high eating and drinking, fine
cloaths, and fine houses, state and equipage, gay
pleasures and diversions, do all of them natur
ally hurt and disorder our hearts; they are
the food and nourishments of all the folly
and weakness of our nature, and are certain
means to make us vain and worldly in
our
84 A Serious CALL
our tempers. They are all of them the sup
port of something that ought not to be sup
ported ; they are contrary to that sobriety and
piety of heart, which relishes divine things;
they are like so many weights upon our
minds, that make us less able, and less
inclin'd to raise up our thoughts and affec
tions to the things that are above.
So that money thus spent, is not merely
wasted or lost, but it is spent to bad purposes,
and miserable effects, to the corruption and
disorder of our hearts, and to the making us
less able to live up to the sublime doctrines of
the Gospel. It is but like keeping money
from the poor, to buy poison for our
selves.
For so much as is spent in the vanity of
dress, may be reckon'd so much laid out tojix
vanity in our minds. So much as is laid out
for idleness and indulgence, may be reckon'd so
much given to render our hearts dull and sen
sual. So much as is spent in state and equipage,
may be reckon'd so much spent to dazzle your
own eyes, and render you the idol of your own
imagination. And so in every thing, when
you go from reasonable wants, you only support
some unreasonable temper, some turn of mind,
which every good Christian is called upon to
renounce.
So that on all accounts, whether we con
sider our fortune as a talent and trust from
God, or the great good that it enables us to do,
or the great harm that it does-to our selves, if
idly
to a Devout and Holy Life 85
idly spent ; on all these great accounts it
appears, that it is absolutely necessary to make
reason and religion the strict rule of using
all our fortune.
Every exhortation in Scripture to be wise
and reasonable, satisfying only such wants as
God would have satisfy'd ; every exhortation
to be spiritual and heavenly, pressing after a
glorious change of our nature ; every exhorta
tion to love our neighbour as our selves, to
love all mankind as God has loved them, is a
command to be strictly religious in the use of
our money. For none of these tempers can
be comply'd with, unless we be wise and
reasonable, spiritual and heavenly, exercising a
brotherly love, a godlike charity in the use of
all our fortune. These tempers, and this use
of our worldly goods, is so much the doctrine
of all the new Testament, that you can't read
a chapter, without being taught something of
it. I shall only produce one remarkable pas
sage of scripture, which is sufficient to justify
all that I have said concerning this religious
use of all our fortune.
When the Son of man shall come In his glory,
and all the holy Angels 'with him, then shall he
sit upon the throne of his glory* And before
him shall be gathered all nations ; and he shall
separate them one from another, as a shepherd
d'mideth the sheep from the goats ; and he shall
set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats ou
the left. Then shall the King say unto them on
his right hand, come ye blessed of my Father, in
herit
86 A Serious CALL
herit the kingdom prepared for you from tht
foundation of the 'world. For I was an
hungred, and ye gave me meat ; I 'was thirsty,
and ye gave me drink : I 'was a stranger and
ye took me in ; naked, and ye cloathed me : I •was
sick, and ye visited me ; I 'was in prison, and
ye came unto me. Then shall he say unto
them on the left hand, depart from me, ye cursed,
into everlasting Jire, prepared for the devil and
his angels ; for I iwas an hungred, and ye gave
me no meat ; I twas thirsty, and ye gave me no
drink : I fwas a stranger and ye took me not
in ; naked, and ye cloathed me not ; sick, and in
prison, and ye visited me not. These shall go
aeway into everlasting punishment, but the right
eous into life eternal.
I have quoted this passage at length,
because, if one looks at the way of the
world, one would hardly think, that chris-
tians had ever read this part of Scripture.
For what is there in the lives of Christians,
that looks as if their salvation depended upon
these good works ? And yet the necessity of
them is here asserted in the highest manner,
and pressed upon us by a lively description of
the glory and terrors of the day of judgment.
Some people, even of those who may be
reckon'd virtuous Christians, look upon this
text only as a general recommendation of
occasional works of charity ; whereas it shews
the necessity not only of occasional charities
now and then, but the necessity of such an
entire charitable life, as is a continual exercise
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 87
of all such works of charity as we are able
to perform.
You own, that you have no title to salva
tion, if you have neglected these good works ;
because such persons as have neglected them,
are at the last day to be placed on the left hand,
and banish'd 'with a depart ye cursed. There
is, therefore, no salvation but in the perform
ance of these good works. Who is it, there
fore, that may be said to have performed these
good works ? Is it he that has sometime
assisted a prisoner, or relieved the poor or
sick ? This would be as absurd, as to say, that
he had perform'd the duties of devotion, who
had sometime said his prayers. Is it therefore,
he that has several times done these works of
charity ? This can no more be said, than
he can be said to be the truly just man,
who had done acts of justice several times.
What is the rule therefore, or measure of per
forming these good works ? How shall a
man trust that he performs them as he ought.
Now the rule is very plain and easy, and such
as is common to every other virtue, or good
temper, as well as to charity. — Who is the
humble, or meek, or devout, or just, or faith
ful man ? Is it he that has several times done •
acts of humility, meekness, devotion, justice,
or fidelity ? No. But it is he that lives in
the habitual exercise of these virtues. In like
manner, he only can be said to have performed
these works of charity, who lives in the habi
tual exercise of them to the utmost of his power.
He
88 A Serious CALL
He only has perfprm'd the duty of divine
love, who loves God with all his heart, and
with all his mind, and iv ith all his strength.
And he only has perform'd the duty of
these good works, who has done them with
all his heart, and with all his mind, and with
all his strength. For there is no other
measure of our doing good, than our power
of doing it.
The Apostle St. Peter puts this question to
our blessed Saviour, Lord, hoiv oft shall my
brother sin against me, and I forgive him, 'till
seven times ? Jesus saith unto him, I say not
unto thee, until seven times : but
Mat. xvni. 22. ., « XT
until seventy times seven. JNot as
if after this number of offences, a man might
then cease to forgive; but the expression of
seventy times seven, is to shew us, that we are
not to bound our forgiveness by any number
of offences, but are to continue forgiving the
most repeated offences against us. Thus our
Saviour saith in another place, If he trespass
against thee seven times in a day, and seven
I , .. times in a day turn again to thee,
saying, I repent, thou shahforg ive
him. If, therefore, a man ceases to forgive
his brother, because he has forgiven him
often already ; if he excuses himself from
forgiving this man, because he has for
given several others ; such a one breaks
this law of Christ, concerning the forgiving
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 89
Now the rule of forgiving, is also the rule
of giving ; you are not to give, or do good to
seven, but to seventy times seven. You are not
to cease from giving, because you have given
often to the same person, or to other persons ;
but must look upon your self as much obliged
to continue relieving those that continue in
wants, as you was obliged to relieve them
once, or twice. Had it not been in your
power, you had been excused from relieving
any person once ; but if it is in your power to
relieve people often, it is as much your duty
to do it often, as it is the duty of others to do
it but seldom, because they are but seldom
able. He that is not ready to forgive every
brother, as often as he wants to be forgiven,
does not forgive like a disciple of Christ.
And he that is not ready to give to every
brother, that wants to have some thing given
him, does not give like a Disciple of Christ.
For it is as necessary to give to seventy times
seven, to live in the continual exercise of all
good works to the utmost of our power, as
it is necessary to forgive until seventy times
seven, and live in the habitual exercise of this
forgiving temper towards all that want it.
And the reason of all this is very plain,
because there is the same goodness, the same
excellency, and the same necessity of being
thus charitable at one time, as at another. It
is as much the best use of our money, to be
always doing good with it, as it is the best use
of it at any particular time ; so that that which
is
90 A Serious CALL
is a reason for a charitable action, is as
good a reason for a charitable ///^. That
which is a reason for forgiving one offence, is
the same reason for forgiving all offences.
For such charity has nothing to recommend
it to-day, but what will be the same recom
mendation of it to-morrow ; and you cannot
neglect it at one time, without being guilty of the
same sin, as if you neglected it at another time.
As sure, therefore, as these works of
charity are necessary to salvation, so sure is
it, that we are to do them to the utmost of
our power ; not to-day, or to-morrow, but
through the 'whole course of our life. If
therefore, it be our duty at any time to deny
our selves any needless expences, to be moderate
and frugal, that we may have to give to those
that want, it is as much our duty to do so at
all times, that we may be farther able to do
more good : For if it is at any time a sin to
prefer needless vain expence to works of
charity, it is so at all times : Because charity
as much excels all needless and vain expences
at one time, as at another. So that if it is
ever necessary to our salvation, to take care
of these works of charity, and to see that we
make our selves in some degree capable of
doing them ; it is as necessary to our salva
tion, to take care to make our selves as cap
able as we can be, of performing them in all
the parts of our life.
Kither therefore you must so far renounce
your Christianity, as to say, that you need
never
to a Devout a?id Holy Life 9 1'
never perform any of these good works ; or
you must own, that you are to perform them
all your life in as high a degree as you are able.
There is no middle way to be taken, any more
than there is a middle way betwixt pride and
humility, or temperance and intemperance. If
you do not strive to fulfil all charitable works,
if you neglect any of them that are in your
power, and deny assistance to those that want
what you can give, let it be when it will, or
where it will, you number your self amongst
those that want Christian charity. Because it
is as much your duty to do good with all that
you have, and to live in the continual exercise
of good works, as it is your duty to be tem
perate in all that you eat and drink.
Hence also appears the necessity of renounc
ing all those foo/ish and unreasonable expences,
which the pride and folly of mankind has made
so common and fashionable in the world. For
if it is necessary to do good works as far as you
are able, it must be as necessary to renounce
those needless ways of spending money, which
render you unable to do works of Charity.
You must therefore no more conform to
these ways of the world ; than you must con
form to the vices of the world, you must no
more spend with those that idly waste their
money as their own humour leads them, than
you must drink with the drunken, or indulge
your self with the Epicure ; because a course of
such expences is no more consistent with a life
of charity, than excess in drinking is consistent
with
92 A Serious CALL
with a. life of sobriety. When therefore any
one tells you of the lawfulness of expensive
apparel, or the innocency of pleasing your self
with costly satisfactions, only imagine that the
same person was to tell you, that you need
not do works of charity, that Christ does
not require you to do good unto your , poor
brethren, as unto him, and then you will see
the wickedness of such advice ; for to tell you,
that you may live in such expences, as make
it impossible for you to live in the exercise of
good works, is the same thing as telling you
that you need not have any care about such
good works themselves.
CHAP. VII
How the imprudent use of an estate corrupts all
the tempers of the mind, and Jills the heart
'with poor and ridiculous passions through
the whole course of life ; represented in the
character of Flavia
TT has already been observ'd, that a prudent
*• and religious care is to be us'd, in the
manner of spending our money or estate, be
cause the manner of spending our estate makes
so great a part of our common life, and is so
much the business of every day, that accord
ing as we are wise, or imprudent, in this re
spect
to a Devout and Holy Life 93
spect, the 'whole course of our lives, will be
render'd either very wise, or very full of folly.
Persons that are well affected to Religion,
that receive instructions of piety with pleasure
and satisfaction, often wonder how it comes to
pass, that they make no greater progress in that
Religion which they so much admire.
Now the reason of it is this ; it is because
Religion lives only in their head, but something
else has possession of their hearts ; and there
fore they continue from year to year mere ad
mirers^ and pralsers of piety, without ever
coming up to the reality and perfection of its
precepts.
If it be ask'd, why Religion does not get
possession of their hearts, the reason is this.
It is not because they live in gross sins, or de
baucheries, for their regard to Religion pre
serves them from such disorders.
But it is because their hearts are constantly
employed, perverted, and kept in a wrong state,
by the indiscreet use of such things as are law
ful to be us'd.
The use and enjoyment of their estates is
lawful, and therefore it never comes into their
heads to imagine any great danger from that
quarter. They never reflect, that there is a
vain, and imprudent use of their estates, which
though it does not destroy like gross sins, yet
so disorders the heart, and supports it in such
sensuality and duiness, such pride and vanity,
as makes it incapable of receiving the life and
spirit of Piety.
For
94 <d Serious CALL
For our souls may receive an infinite huit,
and be render'd incapable of all virtue, merely
by the use of innocent and lawful things.
What is more innocent than rest and retire
ment ? And yet what more dangerous, than
sloth and idleness ? What is more lawful than
eating and drinking ? And yet what more de
structive of all virtue, what more fruitful of
all vice, than sensuality and indulgence ?
How lawful and praise-worthy is the care of
a family ? And yet how certainly are many
people render'd incapable of all virtue, by a
worldly and solicitous temper ?
Now it is for want of religious exactness in
the use of these innocent and lawful things,
that Religion cannot get possession of our
hearts. And it is in the right and prudent
management of our selves, as to these things,
that all the art of holy living chiefly consists.
Gross sins are plainly seen, and easily avoided
by persons that profess Religion. But the
indiscreet and dangerous use of innocent and
lawful things, as it does not shock and offend
our consciences, so it is difficult to make people
at all sensible of the danger of it.
A Gentleman that expends all his estate in
sports, and a woman that lays out all her fortune
upon her self, can hardly be pers waded, that
the spirit of Religion cannot subsist in such a
way of life.
These persons, as has been observed, may
live free from debaucheries, they may he
friends of Religion, .so far as to praise and
to a Devout and Holy Life 95
speak well of it, and admire it in their imagina
tions ; but it cannot govern their hearts, and
be the spirit of their actions, till they change
their way of life, and let Religion give laws
to the use and spending of their estates,
For a Woman that loves dress, that thinks no
expence too great to bestow upon the adorning
of her person, cannot stop there. For that
temper draws a thousand other follies along
with it, and will render the whole course of
her life, her business, her conversation, her
hopes, her fears, her taste, her pleasures, and
diversions, all suitable to it.
flavia and Miranda are two maiden sisters,
that have each of them two hundred pounds a
year. They buried their parents twenty years
ago, and have since that time spent their
estate as they pleased.
Flavia has been the 'wonder of all her friends,
for her excellent management, in making so
surprizing a figure in so moderate a fortune.
Several Ladies that have twice her fortune, are
not able to be always so genteel, and so constant
at all places of pleasure and expence. She has
every thing that is in the fashion, and is in
every place where there is any diversion.
Flavia is very orthodox, she talks warmly
against hereticks and schismatic ks, is generally at
Church, and often at the sacrament. She once
commended a sermon that was against the pride
and vanity of dress, and thought it was very jus/
against Luanda, whom she takes to be a great
deal finer than she need to be. If any one
G asks
96 A Serious CALL
asks Flavia to do something in charity, if she
likes the person who makes the proposal, or
happens to be in a right temper, she will toss
him half a crown or a crown, and tell him, if
he knew what a long Milliner's bill she had just
received, he would think it a great deal for her
to give. A quarter of a year after this, she
hears a sermon upon the necessity of charity ;
she thinks the man preaches well, that it is a
very proper subject, that people want much to
be put in mind of it ; but she applies nothing
to herself, because she remembers that she
gave a crown some time ago, when she could
so ill spare it.
As for poor people themselves, she will
admit of no complaints from them ; she is
very positive they are all cheats and lyars,
and will say any thing to get relief, and
therefore it must be a sin to encourage them
in their evil ways\
You would think Flavia had the tender est
conscience in the world, if you was to see,
how scrupulous and apprehensive she is of the
guilt and danger of giving amiss.
She buys all books of wit ?nd humour,
and has made an expensive collection of all
our English Poets. For she says, one cannot
have a true taste of any of them, without being
very conversant with them all.
She will sometimes read a book of Piety, if
it is a short one, if it is much commended for
stile and language, and she can tell where to
borrow it.
Flavia
to a Devout and Holy Life 97
Flavia is very idle, and yet very fond of
Jlne work : this makes her often sit working
in bed until noon, and be told many a long
story before she is up ; so that I need not
tell you, that her morning devotions are not
always rightly performed.
Flavia would be a miracle of Piety, if she
was but half so careful of her soul, as she is
of her bodyu The rising of a pimple in her
face, the sting of a gnat, will make her keep
her room two or three days, and she thinks
they are very rash people, that don't take
care of things in time. This makes her so
over-careful of her health, that she never thinks
she is veil enough ; and so over indulgent, that
she never can be really well. So that it costs
her a great deal in j-/?^>/V/§--draughts and <wak-
w^-draughts, in spirits for the head, in drops
for the nerves, in cordials for the stomach, and
in saffron for her tea.
If you visit Flavia on the Sunday, you will
always meet good company, you will know
what is doing in the world, you will hear the
last lampoon, be told who wrote it, and who is
meant by every name that is in it. You will
hear what plays were acted that week, which
is the finest song in the opera, who was intoler
able at the last assembly, and what games are
most in fashion. Flavia thinks they are Atheists
that play at cards on the Sunday, but she will
tell you the nicety of all the games, what cards
she held, how she play* d them, and the history
of all that happened at play, as soon as she
comes
98
A Serious CALL
comes from Church. If you would know
who is rude and ill-natured, who is vain and
foppish, who lives too /j(^/>, and who is in debt.
If you would know what is the quarrel at
a certain house, or who and who are in love.
If you would know how late Belinda comes
home at night, what cloaths she has bought,
how she loves compliments, and what a long
story she told at such a place. If you would
know how cross Lucius is to his wife, what ill-
natur'd things he says to her, when no body
hears him ; if you would know how they hate
one another in their hearts, tho' they appear so
kind in publick ; you must visit Flavia on the
Sunday. But still she has so great a regard
for the holiness of the Sunday, that she has
turned a poor old widow out of her house,
as a prophane wretch, for having been found
once mending her cloaths on the Sunday night.
Thus lives Flavia ; and if she lives ten years
longer, she will have spent aboutffiteen hundred
and sixty Sundays after this manner. She will
have wore about tiv o hundred different suits
of cloaths. Out of this thirty years of her
\\fe,jifteen of them will have been disposed
of in bed', and of the remaining fifteen,
about fourteen of them will have been con
sumed in eating, drinking, dressing, visiting,
conversation, reading and hearing Plays and
Romances, at Operas, Assemblies, Balls and
Diversions. For you may reckon all the time
that she is up, thus spent, except about an
hour and half, that is disposed of at Church,
most
to a Devout and Holy Life 99
most Sundays in the year. With great
management, and under mighty rules of
oeconomy, she will have spent sixty hundred
pounds upon herself, bating only some shil
lings, crowns, or half-crowns , that have gone
from her in accidental charities.
I shall not take upon me to say, that it is im
possible for Flavia to be saved ; but thus much
must be said, that she has no grounds from
Scripture to think she is in the way of salva
tion. For her whole life is in direct opposition
to all those tempers and practices, which the
Gospel has made necessary to salvation.
If you was to hear her say, that she had
lived all her life like Anna the Prophetess,
who departed not from the temple, but served God
'with fastings and prayers night and day, you
would look upon her as very extravagant ; and
yet this would be no greater an extravagance,
than for her to say, that she had been striving
to enter in at the strait gate, or making any
one doctrine of the Gospel, a rule of her life.
She may as well say, that she lived with
our Saviour when he was upon earth, as that
she has lived in imitation of him, or made it
any part of her care to live in such tempers, as
he required of all those that would be his
disciples. She may as truly say, that she has
every day 'washed the saints' feet, as that she
has lived in Christian humility and poverty oj
spirit ; and as reasonably think, that she has
taught a Charity-school, as that she has lived in
'works of charity. She has as much reason to
think
i oo A Serious CALL
think, that she has been a centmel in an army,
as that she has lived in watching, and self-
denial. And it may as fairly be said, that she
lived by the labour of her hands, as that she
had given all diligence to make her calling and
election sure,
And here it is to be well observed, that
the poor, vain turn of mind, the irreligion,
the folly and vanity of this whole life of
Flavia, is all owing to the manner of using
her estate. It is this that has formed her
spirit, that has given life to every idle temper,
that has supported every trifling passion, and
kept her from all thoughts of a prudent, use
ful, and devout life.
When her parents dy'd, she had no thought
about her two hundred pounds a year, but
that she had so much money to do what she
would with, to spend upon herself, and pur
chase the pleasures and gratifications of all
her passions.
And it is this setting out, this false judg
ment, and indiscreet use of her fortune, that
has filled her whole life with the same indis
cretion, and kept her from thinking of what
is right, and wise and pious in every thing
else.
If you have seen her delighted in plays and
romances, in scandal and backbiting, easily J$ar/-
ttr'd, and soon affronjecL If you have seen
her devoted to pleasures and diversions, a slave
to every passion in its turn, nice in every thing
that concerned her body or dress, careless of
every
to a Devout and Holy Life I o i
every thing that might benefit her sou/,
always wanting some new entertainment, and
ready for every happy invention in shew or
dress, it was because she had purchased all
these tempers with the yearly revenue of
her fortune.
She might have been humble, serious, devout,
a lover of good books, an admirer of prayer and
retirement, careful of her time, diligent in good
works, full of charity and the love of God, but
that the imprudent use of her estate forc'd all
the contrary tempers upon her.
And it was no wonder, that she shou'd turn
her time, her mind, her health and strength to
the same uses that she turn'd her fortune,, It is
owing to her being wrong in so great an article
of life, that you can see nothing wise, or
reasonable, or pious in any other part of it,
Now though the irregular trifling spirit
of this character belongs, I hope, but to few
people, yet many may here learn some in
struction from it, and perhaps see something
of their own spirit in it.
For as Flavia seems to be undone by the
unreasonable use of her fortune, so the lowness
of most people's virtue, the imperfections of their
piety, and the disorders of their passions, is
generally owing to their imprudent use and
enjoyment of lawful and innocent things.
More people are kept from a true sense and
taste of Religion, by a regular kind of sensu
ality and indulgence, than by gross drunken
ness. More men live regardless of the great
duties
IO2 A Serious CALL
duties of piety, through too great a concern for
worldly goods, than through direct injustice.
This man would perhaps be devout, if he
was not so great a Virtuoso. Another is deaf
to all the motives to piety, by indulging an
idle, slothful temper.
Could you cure This man of his great curi
osity and inquisitive temper, or That of his false
satisfaction and thirst after learning, you need
do no more to make them both become men
of great piety.
If This 'woman would make fewer visits, or
That not be always talking, they would neither
of them find it half so hard to be affected
with Religion.
For all these things are only tittle, when
they are compared to great sins, and though
they are little in that respect, yet they are
great, as they are impediments and hindrances
of a pious spirit,
For as consideration is the only eye of the
soul, as the truths of Religion can be seen by
nothing else, so whatever raises a levity of
mind, a trifling spirit, renders the soul incap
able of seeing, apprehending, and relishing the
doctrines of piety.
Would we therefore make a real progress in
Religion, we must not only abhor gross and
notorious sins, but we must regulate the inno
cent and lawful parts of our behaviour, and
put the most common and allow'd actions of
life under the rules of discretion and piety.
CHAP
to a Devout and Holy Life 103
CHAP. VIII
Honv the 'wise and pious Use of an Estate natur
ally carrieth us to great perfection in all the
virtues of the Christian Life ; represented
in the character of Miranda
A NY one pious regularity of any one part
-^ of our life, is of great advantage, not
only on its own account, but as it uses us to
live by rule, and think of the government of
ourselves.
A man of business, that has brought one
part of his affairs under certain rules, is in a
fair way to take the same care of the rest.
So he that has brought any one part of his
life under the rules of religion, may thence
be taught to extend the same order and
regularity into other parts of his life.
If any one is so wise as to think his time
too precious to be disposed of by chance, and
left to be devoured by any thing that happens
in his way. If he lays himself under a neces
sity of observing how every day goes through
his hands, and obliges himself to a certain
order of time in his business, his retirements,
and devotions, it is hardly to be imagined,
how soon such a conduct would reform, im
prove, and perfect the whole course of his
life.
He
104 A Serious CALL
He that once thus knows the value, and
reaps the advantage of a well-order'd time,'
will not long be a stranger to the value of any
thing else that is of any real concern to him.
A rule that relates even to the smallest part
of our life, is of great benelit to us, merely as
it is a rule.
For, as the Proverb saith, He that has
begun ewell9 has half done : So he that has
begun to live by rule, has gone a great way
towards the perfection of his life.
By rule, must here be constantly understood,
a religious rule, observed upon a principle of
duty to God.
For if a man should oblige himself to be
moderate in his meals, only in regard to his
stomach ; or abstain from drinking, only to
avoid the head-ach ; or be moderate in his
sleep, through fear of a lethargy, he might
be exact in these rules, without being at all
the better man for them.
But when he is moderate and regular in
any of these things, out of a sense of Christian
sobriety and self-denial, that he may offer unto
God a more reasonable and holy life, then it
is that the smallest rule of this kind, is natur
ally the beginning of great piety.
For the smallest rule in these matters is of
great benefit, as it teaches us some part of the
government of our selves, as it keeps up a
tenderness of mind, as it presents God often to
our thoughts, and brings a sense of religion
into the ordinary actions of our common life.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 105
If a man, whenever he was in company,
where any one swore, talk'd lewdly, or spoke
evil of his neighbour, should make it a rule
to himself, either gently to reprove him, or
if that was not proper, then to leave the com
pany as decently as he could ; he would find
that this little rule, like a little leaven hid in
a great quantity of meal, would spread and
extend it self through the whole form of his
life.
If another should oblige himself to abstain
on the Lords-day from many innocent and
lawful things, as travelling, visiting, common
conversation, and discoursing upon worldly
matters, as trade, news, and the like ; if he
should devote the day, besides the publick
worship, to greater retirement, reading, devo
tion, instruction, and works of Charity :
Though it may seem but a small thing, or a
needless nicety, to require a man to abstain
from such things, as may be done without
sin, yet whoever would try the benefit of so
little a rule, would perhaps thereby find such
a change made in his spirit, and such a taste
of piety raised in his mind, as he was an
entire stranger to before.
It would be easy to shew in many other
instances, how little and small matters, are
the first steps, and natural beginnings of great
perfection.
But the two things which of all others,
most want to be under a strict rule, and which
are the greatest blessings both to our selves
and
io6 A Serious CALL
and others, when they are rightly us'd, are
our time, and our money. These talents are
continual means and opportunities of doing
good.
He that is piously strict, and exact in the
wise management of either of these, cannot
be long ignorant of the right use of the
other. And he that is happy in the religious
care and disposal of them both, is already
ascended several steps upon the ladder of
Christian perfection.
Miranda, (the sister of Flavia) is a sober
reasonable Christian ; as soon as she was
mistress of her time and fortune, it was her
first thought, how she might best fulfil every
thing that God required of her in the use of
them, and how she might make the best and
happiest use of this short life. She depends
upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath
said, that there is but one thing needful, and
therefore makes her whole life but one con
tinual labour after it. She has but one reason
for doing or not doing, for liking or not liking
any thing, and that is the 'will of God. She
is not so weak, as to pretend to add, what is
call'd the jine lady, to the true Christian;
Miranda thinks too well, to be taken with
the sound of such silly words ; she has re-
nounc'd the world, to follow Christ in the
exercise of humility, charity, devotion, abstin
ence, and heavenly affection ; and that is
Miranda 's4me breeding.
Whilst
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 07
Whilst she was under her mother, she was
forced to be genteel, to live in ceremony, to
sit up late at nights, to be in the folly of every
fashion, and always visiting on Sundays. To
go patch' (1, and loaded with a burden ofjinery,
to the holy Sacrament ; to be in every polite
conversation, to hear prophaneness at the play
house, and wanton songs and love intrigues
at the opera, to dance at public k places, that
fops and rakes might admire the fineness of
her shape, and the beauty of her motions.
The remembrance of this way of life, makes
her exceeding careful to atone for it, by a
contrary behaviour.
Miranda does not divide her duty between
God, her neighbour, and her self; but she
considers all as due to God, and so does
every thing in his name, and for his sake.
This makes her consider her fortune, as the
gift of God, that is to be used as every thing
is, that belongs to God, for the wise and
reasonable ends of a Christian and holy life.
Her fortune therefore is divided betwixt her
self, and several other poor People, and she has
only her part of relief from it. She thinks it
the same folly to indulge her self in needless,
vain expences, as to give to other People to
spend in the same way. Therefore as she will
not give a poor man money to go see a Puppet-
shew, neither will she allow her self any to spend
in the same manner ; thinking it very proper
to be as 'wise her self, as she expects poor men
should
io8 A Serious CALL
should -be. For it is a folly and a crime in
a poor man, says Miranda, to waste what is
given him, in foolish trifles, whilst he wants
meat, drink and cloaths.
And is it less folly, or a less crime in me to
spend that money in silly diversions, which
might be so much better spent in imitation of
the divine goodness, in works of kindness
and charity towards my fellow creatures, and
fellow Christians ? If a poor man's own neces
sities are a reason why he should not waste any
of his money idly, surely the necessities of
the poor, the excellency of Charity, which is
receiv'd as done to Christ himself, is a much
greater reason, why no one should ever waste
any of his money. For if he does so, he does
not only do like tjie poor man, only waste
that which he wants himself, but he wastes
that which is wanted for the most noble use,
and which Christ himself is ready to receive at
his hands. And if we are angry at a poor
man, and look upon him as a wretch, when
he throws away that which should buy his own
bread ; how must we appear in the sight of
God, if we make a 'wanton idle use of that,
which should buy bread and cloaths for the
hungry and naked brethren, who are as near
and dear to God, as we are, and fellow heirs
of the same state of future Glory ? This is
the spirit of Miranda, and thus she uses the
gifts of God ; she is only one of a certain
number of 'poor People, that are relieved out of
her
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 09
her fortune, and she only differs from them
in the blessedness of giving.
Excepting her victuals, she never spent
near ten pound a year upon her self. If you
was to see her, you would wonder what poor
body it was, that was so surprizingly neat and
clean. She has but one rule that she observes
in her dress, to be always clean, and in the
cheapest things. Every thing about her re
sembles the purity of her soul, and she is
always clean without, because she is always
pure within.
Every morning sees her early at her
Prayers, she rejoices in the beginning of
every day, because it begins all her pious rules
of holy living, and brings the fresh pleasure of
repeating them. She seems to be as & guardian
Angel to those that dwell about her, with her
watchings and prayers blessing the place where
she dwells, and making intercession with God
for those that are asleep.
Her devotions have had some intervals, and
God has heard several of her private Prayers,
before the light is suffer'd to enter into her
sister's room. Miranda does not know what
it is to have a dull half-day ; the returns of
her hours of Prayer, and her religious exer
cises, come too often to let any considerable
part of it lye heavy upon her hands.
When you see her at work, you see the
same wisdom that governs all her other
actions, she is either doing something that is
necessary for her self, or necessary for others,
who
i io A Serious CALL
who want to be assisted. There is scarce a
poor family in the neighbourhood, but wears
something or other that has had the labour of
her hands. Her wise and pious mind neither
wants the amusement, nor can bear with the
folly of idle and impertinent work. She can
admit of no such folly as this in the day,
because she is to answer for all her actions
at night. When there is no wisdom to be
observed in the employment of her hands,
when there is no useful or charitable work to
be done, Miranda will work no more. At
her table she lives strictly by this rule of holy
Scripture, 'whether ye eat, or drink, or whatever
ye do, do all to the glory of God. This makes
her begin and end every meal, as she begins
anpl ends every day, with acts of devotion :
She eats and drinks only for the sake of
living, and with so regular an abstinence,
that every meal is an exercise of self-denial,
and she humbles her body, every time that
she is forc'd to feed it. If Miranda was to
run a race for her life, she would submit to a
diet that was proper for it. But as the race
which is set before her, is a race of holiness,
purity, and heavenly affection, which she is to
finish in a corrupt, disorder'd body of earthly
passions, so her every day diet has only this
one end, to make her body fitter for this
spiritual race. She does not weigh her meat
in a pair of scales, but she weighs it in a
much better balance ; so much as gives a
proper strength to her body, and renders it
able
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 1 1
able and willing to obey the soul, to join in
Psalms and Prayers, and lift up eyes and
hands towards Heaven with greater readi
ness, so much is Mirandas meal. So that
Miranda will never have her eyes swell with
fatness, or pant under a heavy load of flesh,
'till she has changed her religion.
The holy Scriptures, especially of the new
Testament, are her daily study ; these she
reads with a watchful attention, constantly
casting an eye upon her self, and trying her
self, by every doctrine that is there. When
she has the new Testament in her hand, she
supposes her self at the feet of our Saviour
and his Apostles, and makes every thing that
she iearns of them, so many laws of her life.
She receives their sacred words with as much
attention, and reverence, as if she saw their
persons, and knew that they were just come
from Heaven, on purpose to teach her the
way that leads to it.
She thinks, that the trying of her self every
day by the doctrines of Scripture, is the only
possible way to be ready for her trial at the
last day. She is sometimes afraid that she
lays out too much money in books, because
she cannot forbear buying all practical books
of any note ; especially such as enter into the
heart of religion, and describe the inward holi
ness of the Christian life. But of all human
writings, the lives of pious persons, and emi
nent saints, are her greatest delight. In these
she searches as for hidden treasure, hoping to
H iind
H2 A Serious CALL
find some secret of holy living, some un
common degree of piety, which she . may
make her own. By this means Miranda has
her head and her heart so stor'd with all the
principles of wisdom and holiness, she is so
full of the one main business of life, that she
finds it difficult to converse upon any other
subject ; and if you are in her company, when
she thinks it proper to talk, you must be made
wiser and better, whether you will or no.
To relate her charity, would be to relate
the history of every day for twenty years ; for
so long has all her fortune been spent that
way. She has set up near twenty poor trades
men that had fail'd in their business, and
saved as many from failing» She has edu
cated several poor children, that were pick'd
up in the streets, and put them in a way of
an honest employment. As soon as any
labourer is confin'd at home with sickness, she
sends him, till he recovers, twice the value of
his wages, that he may have one part to give
to his family, as usual, and the other to pro
vide things convenient for his sickness.
If a family seems too large to be supported
by the labour of those that can work in it,
she pays their rent, and gives them something
yearly towards their cloathing. By this means
there are several poor families that live in a
comfortable manner, and are from year to
year blessing her in their prayers.
If there is any poor man or woman, that
is more than ordinarily wicked and reprobate,
Miranda
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 1 3
Miranda has her eye upon them, she watches
their time of need and adversity ; and if she
can discover that they are in any great
streights or affliction, she gives them speedy
relief. She has this care for this sort of
people, because she once saved a very profli
gate person from being carry'd to prison, who
immediately became a true penitent.
There is nothing in the character of
Miranda more to be admir'd, than this
temper. For this tenderness of affection
towards the most abandon'd sinners, is the
highest instance of a divine and godlike soul.
Miranda once passed by a house, where the
man and his 'wife were cursing and swearing at
one another in a most dreadful manner, and
three children crying about them ; this sight
so much affected her compassionate mind, that
she went the next day, and bought the three
children, that they might not be ruin'd by
living with such wicked parents ; they now
live with Miranda, are blessed with her care
and prayers, and all the good works which
she can do for them. They hear her talk,
they see her live, they join with her in Psalms
and Prayers. The eldest of them has already
converted his parents from their wicked life,
and shews a turn of mind so remarkably pious,
that Miranda intends him for holy orders ;
that being thus sav'd himself, he may be
zealous in the salvation of souls, and do to
other miserable objects, as she has done to
him.
Miranda
H4 A Serious CALL
Miranda is a constant relief to poor people
in their misfortunes and accidents ; there are
sometimes little misfortunes that happen to
them, which of themselves they could never
be able to overcome. The death of a cow,
or a horse, or some little robbery, would keep
them in distress all their lives. She does not
suffer them to grieve under such accidents as
these» She immediately gives them the full
value of their loss, and makes use of it as a
means of raising their minds towards God.
She has a great tenderness for old people that
are grown past their labour. The parish al
lowance to such people, is very seldom a com
fortable maintenance,. For this reason, they
are the constant objects of her care ; she adds
so much to their allowance, as somewhat ex
ceeds the wages they got when they were
young. This she does to comfort the in-
lirmities of their age, that being free from
trouble and distress, they may serve God in
peace and tranquility of mindc She has gener
ally a large number of this kind, who by her
charities and exhortations to holiness, spend
their last days in great piety and devotion,,
Miranda never wants compassion, even to*
common beggars ; especially towards those
that are old or sick, or full of sores, that want
eyes or limbs. She hears their complaints
with tenderness, gives them some proof of
her kindness, and never rejects them with
hard, or reproachful language, for fear of
adding affliction to her fellow creatures
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 1 5
If a poor old traveller tells her, that he has
neither strength, nor food, nor money left, she
never bids him go to the place from whence
he came ; or tells him, that she cannot relieve
him, because he may be a cheat, or she does
not know him ; but she relieves him for that
reason, because he is a stranger, and unknown
to her. For it is the most noble part of
charity, to be kind and tender to those whom
we never saw before, and perhaps never may
see again in this life. / <was a stranger, and
ye took me in, saith our blessed Saviour ; but
who can perform this duty, that will not re
lieve persons that are unknown to him ?
Miranda considers, that Lazarus was a
common beggar, that he was the care of
Angels, and carry'd into Abraham's bosom.
She considers, that our blessed Saviour, and
his Apostles, were kind to beggars ; that they
spoke comfortably to them, healed their
diseases, and restored eyes and limbs to the
lame and blind* That Peter said to the
beggar that wanted an alms from him, silver
and gold have I none, but such as I have give I
thee ; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
rise up and walk* Miranda, therefore, never
treats beggars with disregard and aversion, but
she imitates the kindness of our Saviour and
his Apostles towards them ; and though she
cannot, like them, work miracles for their re
lief, yet she relieves them with that power that
she hath ; and may say with the Apostle, such
as I have give I thee, in the name rjj Jesus Christ.
It
1 1 6 A Serious CALL
It may be, says Miranda, that I may often
give to those that do not deserve it, or that
will make an /'// use of my alms. But what
then ? Is not. this the very method of divine
goodness ? Does not God make his sun to rise
on the evil, and on the good ? Is not this the
very goodness that is recommended to us in
Scripture, that by imitating of it, we may
be children of our Father which is in Heaven,
ewho sendeth rain on the just ', and on the unjust ?
And shall I with-hold a little money, or food,
from my fellow creature, for fear he should
not be good endugh to receive it of me ? Do
I beg of God to deal with me, not according
to my merit, but according to his own great
goodness ; and shall I be so absurd, as to
with-hold my charity from a poor brother,
because he may perhaps not deserve it ? shall
I use a measure towards him, which I pray
God never to use towards me ?
Besides, where has the Scripture made merit
the rule or measure of charity ? On the con
trary, the Scripture saith, if thy enemy hunger,
feed him ; if he thirst, gii)e him drink.
Now this plainly teaches us, that the merit
of persons is to be no rule of our charity, but
that we are to do acts of kindness to those
that least of all deserve it. For if I am to
love and do good to my worst enemies ; if I
am to be charitable to them, notwithstanding
all their spight and malice, surely merit is no
measure of charity. If I am not to with
hold my charity from such bad people, and
who
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 1 7
who are at the same time my enemies, surely
I am not to deny alms to poor beggars, whom
I neither know to be bad people, nor any
way my enemies.
You will perhaps say, that by this means
I encourage people to be beggars* But the
same thoughtless objection may be made
against all kinds of charities, for they may
encourage people to depend upon them. The
same may be said against/or^w/V/^ our enemies,
for it may encourage people to do us hurt.
The same may be said, even against the good
ness of God, that by pouring his blessings on
the evil and on the good, on the just and on
the unjust, evil and unjust men are encouraged
in their wicked ways. The same may be
said against cloathing the naked, or giving
medicines to the sick, for that may encourage
people to neglect themselves, and be careless
of their health. But when the love of God
d'welleth in you ; when it has enlarged your
heart, and filled you with bowels of mercy
and compassion, you will make no more such
objections as these.
When you are at any time turning away
the poor, the old, the sick and helpless travel
ler, the lame, or the blind, ask your self this
question ; do I sincerely wish these poor
creatures may be as happy as Lazarus, that
was carry'd by Angels into Abraham & bosom ?
Do I sincerely desire that God would make
them fellow-heirs with me in eternal Glory ?
Now if you search into your soul, you will find
that
1 1 8 A Serious CALL
that there is none of these motions there,
that you are wishing nothing of this. For it
is impossible for any one heartily to wish a
poor creature so great a happiness, and yet
not have a heart to give him a small alms.
For this reason, says Miranda, as far as I
can, I give to all, because I pray to God to
forgive all; and I cannot refuse an alms to
those, whom I pray God to bless, whom I
wish to be partakers of eternal glory ; but am
glad to shew some degree of love to such, as
I hope, will be the objects of the infinite love
of God. And if, as our Saviour has assur'd
us, // be more blessed to give than to receive, we
ought to look upon those that ask our alms, as
so many friends and benefactors, that come to
do us a greater good than they can receive,
that come to exalt our virtue, to be witnesses
of our charity, to be monuments of our love,
to be our advocates with God, to be to us in
Christ's stead, to appear for us at the day of
judgment, and to help us to a blessedness
greater than our alms can bestow on them.
This is the spirit, and this is the life of the
devout Miranda ; and if she lives ten years
longer, she will have spent sixty hundred
pounds in charity, for that which she allows
her self, may fairly be reckon'd amongst her
alms.
When she dies, she must shine amongst Apo-
ft/tSf and Saints, and Martyrs, she must stand
amongst \\-\cJirst servants of God, and be glo
rious
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 1 9
rious amongst those that have fought the good
fight, and iinish'd their course with joy~
CHAP. IX
Containing some reflections upon the life of
Miranda, and shewing hoiv it may, and
ought to be imitated by all her sex
XTOW this life of Miranda, which I
*?' heartily recommend to the imitation
of her sex, however contrary it may seem to
the way and fashion of the world, is yet suit
able to the true spirit, and founded upon the
plainest doctrines of Christianity.
To live as she does, is as truly suitable to
the Gospel of Christ, as to be baptizd, or
receive the Sacrament.
Her spirit is that, which animated the
Saints of former ages ; and it is because they
liv'd as she does, that we now celebrate their
memories, and praise God for their examples.
There is nothing that is whimsical, trifling,
or unreasonable in her character ; but every
thing there describ'd, is a right and proper
instance of a solid and real piety.
It is as easy to shew, that it is whimsical to
go to church, or to say one's prayers, as that
it is whimsical to observe any of these rules
of life. For all Miranda's rules of living
unto God, of spending her time and fortune, of
eating
1 20 A Serious CALL
eating, working, dressing, and conversing, are
as substantial parts of a reasonable and holy
life, as devotion and prayer.
For there is nothing to be said, for the wis
dom of sobriety, the wisdom of devotion, the
wisdom of charity, or the wisdom of humility,
but what is as good an argument for the wise
and reasonable use of apparel.
Neither can any thing be said against the
folly of luxury, the folly of sensuality, the
folly of extravagance, the folly of prodigality,
the folly of ambition, of idleness, or indulgence,
but what must be said against the folly of
dress. For religion is as deeply concerned
in the one, as in the other.
If you may be vain in one thing, you may
be vain in every thing ; for one kind of
vanity only differs from another, as one kind
of intemperance differs from another.
If you spend your fortune in the needless
vain finery of dress, you cannot condemn pro
digality, or extravagance, or luxury, without
condemning your self.
If you fancy that it is your only folly, and
that therefore there can be no great matter in
it ; you are like those that think they are
only guilty of the folly of covetousness, or
the folly of ambition. Now though some
people may live so plausible a life, as to
appear chargeable with no other fault, than
that of covetousness or ambition ; yet the
case is not as it appears, for covetousness or
ambition cannot subsist in a heart that is in
other respects rightly devoted to God.
In
to a Devout and Holy Life i 2 1
In like manner, though some people may
spend most that they have in needless expen
sive ornaments of dress, and yet seem to be
in every other respect truly pious, yet it is
certainly false ; for it is as impossible for a
mind that is 'm a true state of religion, to be
vain in the use of cloaths, as to be vain in
the use of alms, or devotions. Now to convince
you of this from your own reflections, let us
suppose that some eminent saint, as for instance,
that the holy Virgin Mary was sent into the
world, to be again in a state of trial for a few
years, and that you was going to her, to be
edify'd by her great piety. Would you expect
to find her dress'd out and adorn'd in fine
and expensive cloaths ? No. You would know
in your own mind, that it was as impossible,
as to find her learning to dance. Do but add
saint, or holy, to any person, either man, or
woman, and your own mind tells you im
mediately, that such a character cannot admit
of the vanity of fine apparel. ^ A saint
genteely dress'd, is as great nonsense, as an
Apostle in an embroidered suit ; every one's
own natural sense convinces him of the in
consistency of these things.
Now what is the reason, that when you
think of a saint, or eminent servant of God,
you cannot admit of the vanity of apparel ?
Is it not because it is inconsistent with such
a right state of heart, such true and exalted
piety ? And is not this therefore, a demon
stration, that where such vanity is admitted,
there
122 A Serious CALL
there a right state of heart, true and exalted
piety must needs be wanted? For as certainly
as the holy Virgin Mary could not indulge
her self, or conform to the vanity of the
world in dress and figure ; so certain is it,
that none can indulge themselves in this
vanity, but those who want her piety of
heart; and consequently it must be own'd,
that all needless and expensive finery of dress,
is the effect of a disorder'd heart, that is not
governed by the true spirit of religion.
Covetousness is not a crime, because there is
any harm in gold or silver, but because it sup
poses a foolish and unreasonable state of mind,
that is fallen from its true good, and sunk
into such a poor and wretched satisfaction.
In like manner, the expensive Jinery of
dress is not a crime, because there is any
thing good or evil in cloaths, but because
the expensive ornaments of cloathing shews
a foolish , and unreasonable state of heart, that
is fallen from right notions of human nature,
that abuses the end of cloathing, and turns
the necessities of life, into so many instances
of pride and folly.
All the world agree in condemning remark
able fops. Now what is the reason of it ? Is
it because there is any thing sinful in their
particular dress, or affected manners? No: but
it is because all people know, that it shews
the state of a man's mind, and that it is im
possible for so ridiculous an outside to have
any thing wise, or reasonable, or good within
And
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 2 3
And indeed to suppose a fop of great piety, is
as much nonsense, as to suppose a coward of
great courage. So that all -the world agree in
owning, that the use and manner of cloaths is
a mark of the state of a man's mind, and
consequently that it is a thing highly essential
to religion. But then it should be well con
sidered, that as it is not only the sot that is
guilty of intemperance, but every one that
transgresses the right and religious measures
of eating and drinking ; so it should be con
sidered, that it is not only the fop that is guilty
of the vanity and abuse of dress, but every one
that departs from the reasonable and religious
ends of cloathmg.
As therefore every argument against sottisb-
nessy is as good an argument against all kinds
of intemperance ; so every argument against
the vanity of fops, is as good an argument
against all vanity and abuse of dress. For
they are all of the same kind, and only differ,
as one degree of intemperance may differ from
another. She that only paints a little, may
as justly accuse another, because she paints a
great deal ; as she that uses but a common
finery of dress, accuse another that is exces
sive in her finery0
For as in the matter of temperance, there
is no rule, but the sobriety, that is according
to the doctrines and spirit of our religion ; so
in the matter of apparel, there is no rule to be
observed, but such a right use of cloaths, as
is strictly according to the doctrines and spirit
of
1 24 A Serious CALL
of our religion. To pretend to make the way
of the world our measure in these things, is as
weak and absurd, as to make the way of the
world the measure of our sobriety, abstinence,
or humility. It is a pretence that is exceed
ingly absurd in the mouths of Christians, who
are to be so far from conforming to the
fashions of this life, that to have overcome
the world, is made an essential mark of
Christianity.
This therefore is the way that you are to
judge of the crime of vain apparel : You are
to consider it as an offence against the proper
use of cloaths, as covetousness is an offence
against the proper use of money ; you are to
consider it as an indulgence of proud and un
reasonable tempers, as an offence against the
humility and sobriety of the Christian spirit ;
you are to consider it as an offence against all
those doctrines that require you to do all to
the glory of God, that require you to make a
right use of your talents ; you are to consider
it as an offence against all those texts of Scrip
ture, that command you to love your neigh
bour as yourself, to feed the hungry, to cloath
the naked, and do all 'works of charity that
you are able : so that you must not deceive
yourself with saying, Where can be the harm
of cloaths ? for the covetous man might as
well say, Where can be the harm of gold or
silver ? but you must consider, that it is a
great deal of harm to want that wise, and
reasonable, and humble state of heart, which is
accord-
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 25
according to the spirit of religion, and which
no one can have in the manner that he ought
to have it, who indulges himself either in
the vanity of dress, or the desire of riches.
There is therefore nothing right in the use
of cloaths, or in the use of any thing else in
the world, but the plainness and simplicity of
the Gospel. Every other use of things (how
ever polite and fashionable in the world)
distracts and disorders the heart, and is incon
sistent with that inward state of piety, that
purity of heart, that wisdom of mind and
regularity of affection, which Christianity re-
quireth.
If you would be a good Christian, there is
but one way, you must live wholly unto God ;
and if you would live wholly unto God, you
must live according to the wisdom that comes
from God ; you must act according to right
judgments of the nature and value of things ;
you must live in the exercise of holy and
heavenly affections, and use all the gifts of
God to his praise and glory.
Some persons perhaps, who admire the
purity and perfection of this life of Miranda,
may say, How can it be propos'd as a
common example ? How can we who are
marry'd, or we who are under the direction
of our parents, imitate such a life ?
It is answered, Just as you may imitate the
life of our blessed Saviour and his apostles.
The circumstances of our Saviour's life, and
the state and condition of his apostles, was
126 A Serious CALL
more different from yours than that of 7I//V-
imdas is ; and yet their life, the purity and
perfection of their behaviour, is the common
example that is proposed to all Christians.
It is their spirit therefore, their piety, their
love of God, that you are to imitate, and
not the particular form of their life.
Act under God as they did, direct your
common actions to that end which they did,
glorify your proper state with such love of
God, such charity to your neighbour, such
humility and self-denial, as they did ; and
then, though you are only teaching your own
children, and St. Paul is converting whole
nations, yet you are following his steps, and
acting after his example.
Don't think therefore that you can't, or
need not be like Miranda^ because you are not
in her state of life ; for as the same spirit and
temper would have made Miranda a saint,
though she had been forc'd to labour for a
maintenance, so if you will but aspire after
her spirit and temper, every form and condition
of life will furnish you with sufficient means
of employing it.
Miranda is what she is, because she does
every thing in the name, and with regard to
her duty to God ; and when you do the same,
you will be exactly like her, though you are
never so different from her in the outward
state of your life.
You are marry'd, you say ; therefore you
ha\e not your time and fortune in your power
as she has, Ir.
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 27
It is very true ; and therefore you cannot
spend so much time, nor so much money, in
the manner that she does.
But now Miranda's perfection does not
consist in this, that she spends so much time,
.or so much money in such a manner, but that
she is careful to make the best use of all that
time, and all that fortune, which God has
put into her hands. Do you therefore make
the best use of all that time and money which
is in your disposal, and then you are like
Miranda.
If she has ttw o hundred pounds a year, and
you have only two mites, have you not the
more reason to be exceeding exact in the
wisest use of it ? If she has a great deal of
time, and you have but a little, ought you
not to be the more 'watchful and circumspect,
lest that little should be lost :
You say, if you was to imitate the cleanly
plainness and cheapness of her dress, you
should offend your husbands.
First, Be very sure that this is true,
before you make it an excuse.
Secondly, If your husbands do really require
you to patch your faces, to expose your breasts
naked, and to bejine and expensive in all your
apparel, then take these two resolutions :
First, To forbear from all this, as soon
as your husbands will permit you.
Secondly, To use your utmost endeavours to
recommend, your selves to their affections by
such solid virtues, as may correct the vanity of
i their
128 A Serious CALL
their minds, and teach them to love you for
such qualities, as will make you amiable in
the sight of God and his holy angels.
As to this doctrine concerning the plain
ness and modesty of dress, it may perhaps be
thought by some to be sufficiently confuted
by asking, Whether all persons are to be
cloathed in the same manner ?
These questions are generally put by those,
who had rather perplex the plainest truths,
than be obliged to follow them.
Let it be supposed, that I had recom
mended an universal plainness of diet. Is it
not a thing sufficiently reasonable to be uni
versally recommended ? But would it thence
follow, that the nobleman and the labourer
were to live upon the same food ?
Suppose I had pressed an universal temper
ance, does not religion enough justify such a
doctrine ? But would it therefore follow,
that all people were to drink the same liquors,
and in the same quantity ?
In like manner, though plainness and sobriety
of dress is recommended to all, yet it does
by no means follow, that all are to be cloathed
in the same manner.
Now what is the particular rule with re
gard to temperance ? How shall particular
persons that use different liquors, and in dif
ferent quantities, preserve their temperance \
Is not this the rule ? Are they not to guard
against indulgence, to make their use of liquors
a matter of conscience, and allow of no refresh
ments
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 29
merits, but such as are consistent with the
strictest rules of Christian sobriety ?
Now transfer this rule to the matter of ap
parel, and all questions about it are answer 'd.
Let every one but. guard against the vanity
of dress, let them but make their use of
cloaths a matter of conscience, let them but
desire to make the best use of their money,
and then every one has a rule that is sufficient
to direct them in every state of life. This
rule will no more let the great be vain in their
dress, than intemperate in their liquors ; and
yet will leave it as lawful to have some differ
ence in their apparel, as to have some difference
in their drink.
But now will you say, that you may use
the Jinest, richest <wines, when and as you
please, that you may be as expensive in them
as you have a mind, because different liquors
are allow'd ? If not, how can it be said, that
you may use cloaths as you please, and
wear the richest things you can get, because
the bare difference of cloaths is lawful ?
For as the lawfulness of different liquors
leaves no room, nor any excuse for the smallest
degrees of intemperance in drinking, so the
lawfulness of different apparel leaves no room,
nor any excuse for the smallest degrees of
vanity in dress.
To ask what is vanity in dress, is no more
a puzzling question, than to ask, what is
intemperance in drinking. And though Religion
does not here state the particular measure
for
130 A Serious CALL
for all individuals, yet it gives such general
rules, as are a sufficient direction in every
state of life.
He that lets Religion teach him, that the
end of drinking is only so far to refresh our
spirits, as to keep us in good health, and make
soul and body fitter for all the offices of a holy
and pious life, and that he is to desire to glorify
God by a right use of this liberty, will always
know what intemperance is, in his particular
state.
So he that lets Religion teach him, that
the end of cloathing is only to hide our shame
and nakedness, and to secure our bodies from
the injuries of weather, and that he is to
desire to glorify God by a sober and <w ise use
of this necessity, will always know what vanity
of dress is, in his particular state.
And he that thinks it a needless nicety, to
talk of the religious use of apparel, has as
much reason to think it a needless nicety, to
talk of the religious use of liquors. For
luxury and indulgence in dress, is as great an
abuse, as .luxury and indulgence in eating and
drinking. And there is no avoiding either of
them, but by making religion the strict measure
of our allowance in both cases. And there
is nothing in Religion to excite a man to this
pious exactness in one case, but what is as
good a motive to the same exactness in the
other.
Farther, as all things that are lawful, are
not therefore expedient, so there are some things
lawful
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 3 i
lawful in the use of liquors and apparel,
which by abstaining frbm them for pious
ends, may be made means of great per
fection.
Thus for instance, if a man should deny
himself such use of liquors as is lawful, if
he should refrain from such cxpencc in his
drink as might be allow'd without sin ; if he
should do this, not only for the sake of a more
pious self-dental, but that he might be able
to relieve and refresh the helpless poor, and
sick.
If another should abstain from the use of
that which is lawful in dress, if he should be
more frugal and mean in his habit, than the
necessities of religion absolutely require ; if he
should do this not only as a means of a better
humility, but that he may be more able to
cloath other People ; these persons might be
said to do that which was highly suitable to
the true spirit, though not absolutely requir'd
by the letter of the law of Christ.
For if those fw ho give a cup of cold water to
a disciple of Christ, shall not lose their reward,
how dear must they be to Christ, who often
give themselves water, that they ma)' be able
to give 'wine to the sick and languishing
members of Christ's body !
But to return. All that has been here said
to marry'd women, may serve for the same
instruction to such as are still under the
direction'of their Parents.
Now
132 A Serious CALL
Now though the obedience which is due
to parents, does not oblige them to carry
their virtues no higher than their parents
require them ; yet their obedience requires
them to submit to their direction in all things
not contrary to the laws of God.
If therefore, your parents require you to
live more in the fashion and conversation of
the world, or to be more expensive in your
dress and person, or to dispose of your time
otherwise than suits with your desires after
greater perfection, you must submit, and bear
it as your cross, till you are at liberty to follow
the higher counsels of Christ, and have it in
your power to chuse the best ways of raising
your virtue to its greatest height.
Now although whilst you are in this state,
you may be oblig'd to forego some means of
improving your virtue, yet there are some
others to be found in it, that are not to be
had in a life of more liberty.
For if in this state, where obedience is so
great a virtue, you comply in all things lawful,
out of a pious, tender sense of duty, then those
things which you thus perform, are instead
of being hindrances of your virtue, turn'd into
means of improving it.
What you lose by being restrain'd from
such things, as you would chuse to observe,
you gain by that excellent virtue of obed
ience, in numbly complying against your
temper.
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 3 3
Now what is here granted, is only in
things lawful; and therefore the diversion
of our English stage is here excepted ; being
elsewhere prov'd, as I think, to be absolutely
unlawful.
Thus much to shew, how persons under
the direction of others, may imitate the wise
and pious life of Miranda.
But as for those who are altogether in
their own hands, if the liberty of their state
makes them covet the best gifts, if it carries
them to chuse the most excellent ways, if they
having all in their own power, should turn
the whole form of their life into a regular
exercise of the highest virtues, happy are they
who have so learned Christ !
All persons cannot receive this saying.
They that are able to receive it, let them re
ceive it, and bless that Spirit of God which
has put such good motions into their hearts.
God may be serv'd, and glorified in every
state of life. But as there are some states of
life more desirable than others, that more
purify our natures, that more improve our
virtues, and dedicate us unto God in a higher
manner, so those who are at liberty to chuse
for themselves, seem to be called by God to
be more eminently devoted to his service.
Ever since the beginning of Christianity,
there hath been two orders, or ranis of
People amongst good Christians.
The
134 ^ Serious CALL
The otie that fear'd and serv'd God in
the common offices and business of a secular,
worldly life.
The other renouncing the common business,
and common enjoyments of life, as riches,
marriage, honours, and pleasures, devoted
themselves to voluntary poverty, virginity,
devotion, and retirement, that by this means
they might live wholly unto God in the
daily exercise of a divine and heavenly life.
This testimony I have from the famous
ecclesiastical historian, Eusebius, who liv'd at
the time of the Jirst general council, when the
faith of our nicene Creed was establish'd, when
the Church was in its greatest glory and purity,
when its Bishops were so many ho^y fathers,
and eminent saints.
"Therefore saith he, there hath been in-
" stituted in the Church of Christ, two 'ways,
" or manners of living. The one rais'd above
" the ordinary state of nature, and common
" ways of living, rejects wedlock, possessions,
" and ivor Idly goods, and being wholly separ-
" ate and remov'd from the ordinary con-
" versation of common life, is appropriated
" and devoted solely to the worship and
" service of God, through an exceeding degree
'( of heavenly love.
" They who are of this order of people,
" seem dead to the life of this world, and
" having their bodies only upon earth, are in
" their minds, and contemplations d welling in
" heaven. From whence, like so many hea~
" venly
to a Devout and Holy L,tfe 135
" venly inhabitants they look down upon
" human life, making intercessions and oblations
" to Almighty God for the whole race of
" mankind. And this not with the blood
" of beasts, or the fat, or smoak, and burning
" of bodies, but with the highest exercises of
" true piety, with cleans'd and purified hearts,
" and with an whole form of life strictly de-
" voted to virtue. These are their sacrifices,
" which they continually offering unto God,
" implore his mercy and favour for them-
" selves, and their fellow creatures.
"Christianity receives this as the perfect
" manner of life.
" The other is of a lower form, and suiting
" it self more to the condition of human
" nature, admits of chaste wedlock, the care of
** children and family, of trade and business,
" and goes through all the employments of
" life under a sense of piety, and fear of
« God.
" Now they who have chosen this manner
" of life, have their set times for retirement
16 and spiritual exercises, and particular days
" are set apart for their hearing Eus^ 2)^.
** and learning the word of God. Evan. 1. i.
" And this order of people are c- 8-
" consider'd, as in the second state of piety."
Thus this learned historian.
If therefore persons of either sex, mov'd
with the life of Miranda, and desirous of
perfection, should unite themselves into little
societies, professing 'voluntary poverty, virgini
ty
i36
A Serious CALL
ty, retirement and devotion, living upon bare
necessaries, that some might be relieved by
their charities, and all be blessed with their
prayers, and benefited by their example : Or
if for want of this, they should practise the
same manner of life, in as high a degree as
they could by themselves : such persons would
be so far from being chargeable with any super
stition, or blind devotion, that they might be
justly said to restore that piety, which was
the boast and glory of the Church, when its
greatest saints were alive.
Now as this learned historian observes, that
it was an exceeding great degree of heavenly
love, that carried these persons, so much
above the common ways of life, to such an
eminent state of holiness ; so it is not to be
wondered at, that the Religion of Jesus
Christ, should fill the hearts of many
Christians with this high degree of love.
For a Religion that opens such a scene of
Glory, that discovers things so infinitely above
all the world, that so triumphs over death,
that assures us of such mansions of bliss,
where we shall so soon be as the Angels of
God in Heaven ; what wonder is it, if such a
Religion, such truths and expectations, should
in some holy souls, destroy all eartlily desires,
and make the ardent love of heavenly things,
be the one continual passion of their hearts ?
If the Religion of Christians is founded
upon the infinite humiliation, the cruel flocking*
and scourging*, the prodigious sufferings, the
poor
to a Devout and Holy Life 137
poor, persecuted life, and painful death of a
crucified Son of God ; what wonder is it,
if many humble adorers of this profound
mystery, many affectionate lovers of a crucified
Lord, should renounce their share of worldly
pleasures, and give themselves up to a con
tinual course of mortification and self-denial :
That thus suffering with Christ here, they
may reign with him hereafter ?
If truth it self hath assur'd us, that there
is but one thing needful, what wonder is it,
that there should be some amongst Christians
so full of faith, as to believe this in the
highest sense of the words, and to desire
such a separation from the world, that their
care and attention to the one thing needful
may not be interrupted ?
If our blessed Lord hath said, If thou wilt
be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven :
And come and follow me : What wonder is it,
that there should be amongst Christians, some
such zealous followers of Christ, so intent up
on heavenly treasure, so desirous pf perfec
tion, that they should renounce the enjoyment
of their estates, chuse a voluntary poverty,
and relieve all the poor that they are able ?
If the chosen vessel, St. Paul, hath said, He
that is unmarry'd careth for the things that be
long to the Lord, how he may please the Lord :
And that there is this difference also between a
'wife and a virgin ; the unmarry* d woman careth
for the things of the Lord, that she may be ho
ly
138 A Serious CALL
ly both in body and Spirit : What wonder is it,
if the purity and perfection of the virgin state,
hath been the praise and glory of the Church
in its first and purest ages ?
That there hath always been some so
desirous of pleasing God, to zealous after
every degree of purity and perfection, so glad
of every means of improving their virtue,
that they have renounced the comforts and
enjoyments of wedlock, to trim their lamft,
to purify their souls, and wait upon God in
a state of perpetual virginity ?
And if now in these our days, we want
examples of these several degrees of perfec
tion, if neither Clergy, nor laity are enough
of this spirit ; if we are so far departed from
it, that a man seems, like St. Paul at Athens,
a setter forth of strange doctrines, when he
recommends self-denial, renunciation of the
world, regular devotion, retirement, virginity,
and voluntary poverty, 'tis because we arc
fallen into an age, where the love not only of
many, but of most, is waxed cold.
I have made this little appeal tc Antiquity,
and quoted these few passages of Scripture, to
support some uncommon "practices in the life
of Miranda ; and to shew, that her highest
rules of holy living, her devotion, self-denial,
renunciation of the world, her charity, virginity,
and voluntary poverty, are founded in the
sublimest counsels of Christ and his Apostles,
suitable to the high expectations of another
life, proper instances of a heavenly love, and
all
to a Devout and Holy Life i 39
all followed by the greatest saints of the best
and purest ages of the Church.
He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
CHAPTER X
Shewing hoew all orders and ranks of men and
ivomen of all ages, are obliged to devote
themselves unto God
T Have in the foregoing Chapters gone
•*• through the several great instances of
Christian devotion, and shewn that all the parts
of our common life, oar employments, our talents
and gifts of 'fortune, are all to be made holy
and acceptable unto God, by a wise and
religious use of every thing, and by directing
our actions and designs to such ends, as are
suitable to the honour and glory of God.
I shall now shew, that this regularity of
devotion, this holiness of common life, this
religious use of every thing that we have, is
a devotion that is the duty of all orders of
Christian people.
Fulvius has had a learned education, and
taken his degrees in the University, he came
from thence, that he might be free from any
rules of life. He takes no employment upon
him, nor enters into any business, because he
thinks that every employment or business,
calls
1 40 A Serious CALL
calls people to the careful performance and
just discharge of its several duties. When he
is grave, he will tell you that he did not enter
into holy orders, because he looks upon it to
be a state, that requires great holiness of life,
and that it does not suit his temper to be so
good. He will tell you that he never intends
to marry, because he cannot oblige himself to
that regularity of life, and good behaviour,
which he takes to be the duty of those that
are at the head of a family. He refused to
be Godfather to his nephew, because he will
have no trust of any kind to answer for.
Fufoius thinks that he is conscientious in
this conduct, and is therefore content with
the most idle, impertinent and careless life.
He has no Religion, no Devotion, no pre
tences to Piety. He lives by no rules, and
thinks all is very well, because he is neither
a priest, nor a father, nor a guardian-^ nor
has any employment or family to look after.
But Fulvius, you are a rational creature,
and as such, are as much obliged to live
according to reason and order, as a priest is
obliged to attend at the altar, or a guardian to
be faithful to his trust ; if you live contrary to
reason, you don't commit a small crime, you
don't break a small trust ; but you break the
law of your nature, you rebel against God
who gave you that nature, and put your self
amongst those whom the God of reason and
order will punish as apostates and deserters.
Though
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 4 1
Though you have no employment, yet as
you are baptized into the profession of Christ's
religion, you are as much oblig'd to live, ac-
"cording to the holiness of the Christian spirit
and perform all the promises made at your
baptism, as any man is oblig'd to be honest
and faithful in his calling. If you abuse this
great calling, you are not false in a small
matter, but you abuse the precious blood of
Christ ; you crucify the Son of God afresh ;
you neglect the highest instances of divine
goodness ; you disgrace the church of God ;
you blemish the body of Christ ; you abuse
the means of Grace, and the promises of
Glory ; and it will be more tolerable for Tyre
and Sidon, at the day of judgment, than for
you.
It is therefore great folly, for any one to
think himself at liberty to live as he pleases,
because he is not in such a state of life as
some others are : For if there is any thing
dreadful in the abuse of any trust ; if there
is any thing to be feared for the neglect of
any calling, there is nothing more to be fear'd
than the wrong use of our reason, nor any
thing more to be dreaded, than the neglect of
our christian calling ; which is not to serve the
little uses of a short life, but to redeem souls
unto God, to fill Heaven with saints, and
finish a kingdom of eternal glory unto God.
No man therefore, must think himself
excused from the exactness of piety and mor
ality, because he has chosen to be idle and in
dependent
142 A Serious CALL
dependent in the world ; for the necessities of
a reasonable and holy life, are not founded
in the several conditions and employments of
this life, but in the immutable nature of
God, and the nature of man. A man is not
to be reasonable and holy, because he is a
priest, or a father of a family ; but he is to
be a pious priest, and a good father, because
piety and goodness are the laws of human
nature. Could any man please God, without
living according to reason and order, there
would be nothing displeasing to God, in an
Idle priest, or a reprobate father. He therefore,
that abuses his reason, is like him that abuses
the priesthood ; and he that neglects the holi
ness of the christian life, is as the man that
disregards the most important trust.
If a man was to chuse to put out his eyes,
rather than enjoy the light, and see the
works of God, if he should voluntarily kill
himself, by refusing to eat and drink, every
one would own, that such a one was a rebel
against God, that justly deserved his highest
indignation. You would not say, that this
was only sinful in a priest, or a master of a
family, but in every man as such.
Now wherein does the sinfulness of this
behaviour consist ? Does it not consist in
this, that he abuses his nature, and refuses to
act that part for which God had created him ?
But if this be true, then all persons that abuse
their reason, that act a different part from that
for which Gad created them, are like this man,
rebels
to a Devout and Holy Life 143
rebels against God, and on the same account
subject to his wrath.
Let us suppose that this man, instead of
putting out his eyes, had only employ'd them
in looking at ridiculous things, or shut them
up in sleep ; that instead of starving himself
to death, by not eating at all, he should turn
every meal into a feast, and eat and drink
like an Epicure ; could he be said to have
liv'd more to the glory of God ? could he
any more be said to act the part for which
God had created him, than if he had put out
his eyes, and starved himself to death ?
Now do but suppose a man acting un
reasonably ; do but suppose him extinguishing
his reason, instead of putting out his eyes ; and
living in a course of folly and impertinence,
instead of starving himself to death ; and then
you have found out as great a rebel against God,
For he that puts out his eyes, or murders
himself, has only this guilt, that he abuses
the powers that God has given him ; that he
refuses to act that part for which he was
created, and puts himself into a state that is
contrary to the divine will. And surely this
is the guilt of every one that lives an un
reasonable, unholy, and foolish life.
As therefore, no particular state, or private
life, is an excuse for the abuse of our bodies,
or self-murder, so no particular state, or
private life, is an excuse for the abuse of our
reason, or the neglect of the holiness of the
Christian religion. For surely it is as much
K the
144 ^ Serious CALL
the will of God that we should make the best
use of our rational faculties, that we should
conform to the purity and holiness of Chris
tianity, as it is the will of God, that we
should use our eyes, and eat and drink for
the preservation of our lives.
'Till therefore, a man can shew, that he
sincerely endeavours to live according to the
will of God, to be that which God requires
him to be ; 'till he can shew, that he is
striving to live according to the holiness of
the Christian religion ; whosoever he be, or
wheresoever he be, he has all that to answer
for, that they have, who refuse to live, who
abuse the greatest trusts, and neglect the
highest calling in the world.
Every body acknowledges, that all orders
of men are to be equally and exactly honest
and faithful; there is no exception to be
made in these duties, for any private or par
ticular state of life. Now if we would but
attend to the reason and nature of things ; if
we would but consider the nature of God,
and the nature of man, we should find the
same necessity for every other right use of
our reason, for every grace, or religious temper
of the Christian life : We should find it as
absurd to suppose, that one man must be
exact in piety, and another need not, as to
suppose that one man must be exact in honesty,
but another need not. For Christian humility,
sobriety, devotion, and piety, are as great and
necessary parts of a reasonable life, as justice
and honesty. And
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 45
And on the other hand, pride, sensuality,
and covetousness, are as great disorders of the
soul, are as high an abuse of our reason, and
as contrary to God, as cheating and dis
honesty.
Theft and dishonesty seem indeed, to vulgar
eyes, to be greater sins, because they are
so hurtful to civil society, and are so severely
punish'd by human laws.
But if we consider mankind in a higher
view, as God's order or society of rational
beings, that are to glorify him by the right
use of their reason, and by acting conform
ably to the order of their nature, we shall find,
that every temper that is equally contrary to
reason and order, that opposes God's ends
and designs, and disorders the beauty and
glory of the rational world, is equally sinful
in man, and equally odious to God. This
would shew us, that the sin of sensuality is
like the sin of dishonesty, and renders us as
great objects of the divine displeasure.
Again, if we consider mankind in a farther
view, as a redeemed order of fallen spirits,
that are baptiz'd into a fellowship with the
Son of God ; to be temples of the holy
Ghost ; to live according to his holy inspira
tions ; to offer to God the reasonable sacrifice
of an humble, pious, and thankful life ; to
purify themselves from the disorders of their
fall ; to make a right use of the means of
grace, in order to be sons of eternal glory :
If we look at mankind in this true light, then
146 A Serious CALL
we shall find, that all tempers that are contrary
to this holy society, that are abuses of this
infinite mercy ; all actions that make us unlike
to Christ, that disgrace his body, that abuse
the means of grace, and oppose our hopes of
glory, have every thing in them, that can
make us for ever odious unto God. So that
though pride and sensuality , and other vices of
the like kind, do not hurt civil society, as
cheating and dishonesty do ; yet they hurt
that society, and oppose those ends, which
are greater and more glorious in the eyes
of God, than all the societies that relate
to this world.
Nothing therefore, can be more false, than
to imagine, that because we are private
persons, that have taken upon us no charge
or employment of life, that therefore we may
live more at large, indulge our appetites, and
be less careful of the duties of piety and holi
ness ; for it is as good an excuse for cheating
and dishonesty. Because he that abuses his
reason, that indulges himself in lust and
sensuality, and neglects to act the wise and
reasonable part of a true Christian, has every
thing in his life to render him hateful to
God, that is to be found in cheating and
dishonesty.
If therefore, you rather chuse to be an idle
Epicure, than to be unfaithful, if you rather
chuse to live in lust and sensuality, than to
injure your neighbour in his goods, you have
made no better a provision for the favour
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 47
of God, than he that rather chuses to rob a
house, than to rob a church.
For the abusing of our own nature, is as
great a disobedience against God, as the injur
ing our neighbour ; and he that wants piety
towards God, has done as much to damn
himself, as he that wants honesty towards
men. Every argument therefore, that proves
it necessary for all men, in all stations of life,
to be truly honest, proves it equally necessary
for all men, in all stations of life, to be truly
holy and pious, and do all things in such a
manner, as is suitable to the glory of God.
Again, another argument to prove that all
orders of men are obliged to be thus holy and
devout in the common course of their lives,
in the use of every thing that they enjoy,
may be taken from our obligation to prayer.
It is granted, that prayw is a duty that be
longs to all states and conditions of men;
now if we enquire into the reason of this,
why no state of life is to be excused from
prayer, we shall find it as good a reason, why
every state of life is to be made a state of
piety and holiness in all its parts.
For the reason why we are to pray unto
God, and praise him with Hymns, and
Psalms of Thanksgiving, is this, because
we are to live wholly unto God, and glorify
him all possible ways. It is not because the
praises of words, or forms of thanksgiving,
are more particularly parts of piety, or more
the worship of God than other things ; but it
148 A Serious CALL
is because they are possible ways of expressing
our dependance, our obedience and devotion
to God. Now if this be the reason of verbal
praises and thanksgivings to God, because we
are to live unto God all possible ways, then
it plainly follows, that we are equally obliged
to worship and glorify God in all other actions
that can be turned into acts of piety and
obedience to him. And as actions are of
much more significancy than words, it must
be a much more acceptable worship of God,
to glorify him in all the actions of our common
life, than with any little form of words at any
particular times.
Thus, if God is to be worshipped with
forms of thanksgivings, he that makes it a
rule to be content and thankful in every part
and accident of his life, because it comes
from God, praises God in a much higher
manner, than he that has some set time for
singing of Psalms. He that dares not to say
a,n ill-natur'd word, or do an unreasonable
thing, because he considers God as every
where present, performs a better devotion
than he that dares not miss the church. To
live in the world as a stranger and a pilgrim,
using all its enjoyments as if we used them
not, making all our actions so many steps
towards a better life, is offering a better
sacrifice to God, than any forms of holy and
heavenly prayers.
To be humble in all our actions, to avoid
every appearance of pride and vanity, to be
meek
to a Devout and Holy Life 149
meek and lowly in our words, actions, dress,
behaviour and designs, in imitation of our
blessed Saviour, is worshipping God in a higher
manner, than they who have only times to
fall low on their knees in devotions. He that
contents himself with necessaries, that he may
give the remainder to those that want it ;
that dares not to spend any money foolishly,
because he considers it as a talent from God,
which must be used according to his will,
praises God with something that is more
glorious than songs of praise.
He that has appointed times for the use of
wise and pious prayers, performs a proper in
stance of devotion ; but he that allows him
self no times, nor any places, nor any actions,
but such as are strictly conformable to wisdom
and holiness, worships the divine nature with
the most true and substantial devotion. For
who does not know, that it is better to be
pure and holy, than to talk about purity and
holiness? Nay, who does not know, that a
man is to be reckon'd no farther pure, or
holy, or just, than as he is pure, and holy, and
just in the common course of his life ? But if
this be plain, then it is also plain, that it is
better to be holy, than to have holy prayers.
Prayers therefore are so far from being a
sufficient devotion, that they are the smallest
parts of it. We are to praise God with words
and prayers, because it is a possible way of
glorifying God, who has given us such facul
ties, as may be so used. But then as words
150 A Serious CALL
are but small things in themselves, as times
of prayer are but little, if compar'd with the
rest of our lives ; so that devotion which
consists in times and forms of prayer, is but a
very small thing, if compared to that devo
tion which is to appear in every other part
and circumstance of our lives.
Again ; as it is an easy thing to worship
God with forms of words, and to observe
times of offering them unto him, so it is the
smallest kind of piety.
• And on the other hand, as it is more diffi
cult to worship God with our substance, to
honour him with the right use of our time,
to offer to him the continual sacrifice of self-
denial and mortification ; as it requires more
piety to eat and drink only for such ends as
may glorify God, to undertake no labour,
nor allow of any diversion, but where we can
act in the name of God ; as it is more difficult
to sacrifice all our corrupt tempers, correct all
our passions, and make piety to God the rule
and measure of all the actions of our common
life : so the devotion of this kind is a much
more acceptable service unto God, than those
words of devotion which we offer to him
either in Church, or in our closet.
Every sober reader will easily perceive,
that I don't intend to lessen the true and great
value of Prayers, either publick or private ;
but only to shew him, that they are certainly
but a very slender part of devotion, when
compared to a devout life.
To
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 5 1
To see this in a yet clearer light, let us
suppose a person to have appointed times for
praising God with Psalms and Hymns, and to
be strict in the observation of them ; let it be
supposed also, that in his common life he is
restless and uneasy, full of murmurings and
complaints at every thing, never pleased but
by chance, as his temper happens to carry
him, but murmuring and repining at the very
seasons, and having something to dislike in
every thing that happens to him. Now can
you conceive any thing more absurd and un
reasonable, than such a character as this ? Is
such a one to be reckon'd thankful 'to God, be
cause he \\asforms of praise which he offers to
him ? Nay, is it not certain, that such forms
of praise must be so far from being an accept
able devotion to God, that they must be ab
hor r'd as an abomination ? Now the absurdity
which you see in this instance, is the same in
any other part of our life ; if our common life
hath any contrariety to our prayers, it is the
same abomination, as songs of thanksgiving
in the mouths of murmurers.
Bended knees, whilst you are cloathed with
pride ; heavenly petitions, whilst you are
hoarding up treasures upon earth ; holy de
votions, whilst you live in the follies of the
world; prayers of meekness and charity, whilst
your heart is the seat of spight and resent
ment; hours of prayer, whilst you give up
days and years to idle diversions, impertinent
visits, and foolish pleasures ; are as absurd, un
acceptable
152 A Serious CALL
acceptable service to God, as forms of thanks
giving from a person that lives in repinings
and discontent.
So that unless the common course of our
lives be according to the common spirit of
our prayers, our prayers are so far from being
a real or sufficient degree of devotion, that
they become an empty lip-labour, or, what is
worse, a notorious hypocrisy.
Seeing therefore we are to make the spirit
and temper of our prayers the common spirit
and temper of our lives, this may serve to
convince us, that all orders of people are to
labour and aspire after the same utmost perfec
tion of the Christian life. For as all Chris
tians are to use the same holy and heavenly
devotions, as they are all with the same
earnestness to pray for the spirit of God ; so
is it a sufficient proof, that all orders of people
are, to the utmost of their power, to make
their life agreeable to that one spirit, for
which they are all to pray.
As certain therefore as the same holiness of
prayers requires the same holiness of life, so
certain is it, that all Christians are called to
the same holiness of life.
A soldier, or a tradesman, is not called to
minister at the altar, or preach the Gospel ;
but every soldier or tradesman is as much ob
liged to be devout, humble, holy, and hea
venly-minded in all the parts of his common
life, as a clergyman is obliged to be zealous,
faithful
to a Devout and Holy Life 153.
faithful, and laborious in all the parts of his
profession.
And all this for this one plain reason,
because all people are to pray for the same
holiness, wisdom, and divine tempers, and to
make themselves as fit as they can for the
same heaven.
All men therefore, as men, have one and
the same important business, to act up to the
excellency of their rational nature, and to
make reason and order the law of all their
designs, and actions. All Christians, as
Christians, have one and the same calling,
to live according to the excellency of the
Christian spirit, and to make the sublime
precepts of the Gospel, the rule and measure
of all their tempers in common life. The
one thing needful to one, is the one thing
needful to all.
The merchant is no longer to hoard up
treasures upon earth ; the soldier is no longer
to fight for glory ; the great scholar is no
longer to pride himself in the depths of
science ; but they must all with one spirit
count all things but loss, for the excellency of
the knowledge of Christ Jesus
Thejine lady must teach her eyes to weep,
and be cloathed with humility. The polite
gentleman must exchange the gay thoughts of
wit and fancy, for a broken and a contrite
heart. The man of quality must so far re
nounce the dignity of his birth, as to think
himself miserable till he is born again. Ser
vants
154 A Serious CALL
•vants must consider their service as done
unto God. Masters must consider their ser
vants as their brethren in Christ, that are
to be treated as their fellow -members of the
mystical body of Christ.
Toung Ladies must either devote themselves
to piety, prayer, self-denial, and all good
works, in a 'virgin state of life ; or else marry
to be holy, sober, and prudent in the care of
a family, bringing up their children in piety,
humility, and devotion, and abounding in all
other good works, to the utmost of their state
and capacity. They have no choice of any
thing else, but must devote themselves to God
in one of these states. They may chuse a
marry'd, or a single life ; but it is not left to
their choice, whether they will make either
state, a state of holiness, humility, devotion,
and all other duties of the Christian life. It
is no more left in their power, because they
have fortunes, or are born of rich parents, to
divide themselves betwixt God and the world,
or take such pleasures as their fortune will
afford them, than it is allowable for them to
be sometimes chaste and modest, and some
times not.
They are not to consider, how much reli
gion may secure them a fair character , or how
they may add devotion to an impertinent, vain,
and giddy life ; but must look into the spirit
and temper of their prayers, into the nature,
and end of Christianity, and then they will
find, that whether marry'd or unmarry'd, they
have
to a 'Devout and Holy Life 1 5 5
have but one business upon their hands ;
to be wise and pious, and holy, not in little
modes and forms of worship, but in the
whole turn of their minds, in the whole form
of all their behaviour, and in the daily course
of their common life.
Toung Gentlemen must consider, what our
blessed Saviour said to the young Gentleman
in the Gospel, he bid him sell all that he had,
and give to the poor. Now tho' this text
should not oblige all people to sell all, yet it
certainly obliges all kinds of people to employ
all their estates in such wise and reasonable
and charitable ways, as may sufficiently shew
that all that they have is devoted to God,
and that no part of it is kept from the poor,
to be spent in needless, vain, and foolish ex-
pences.
If therefore young Gentlemen propose to
themselves a life of pleasure and indulgence,
if they spend their estates in high living, in
luxury and intemperance, in state and equip
age, in pleasures and diversions, in sports and
gaming, and such like wanton gratifications
of their foolish passions, they have as much
reason to look upon themselves to be Angels,
as to be disciples of Christ.
Let them be assur'd, that it is the one only
business of a Christian Gentleman, to distinguish
himself by good works, U) be eminent in the
most sublime virtues of the Gospel, to bear
with the ignorance and weakness of the vulgar,
to be a friend and patron to all that dwell
about
156 A Serious CALL
about him, to live in the utmost heights of
wisdom and holiness, and shew thro' the
whole course of his life a true religious great
ness of mind. They must aspire after such a
gentility, as they might have learnt from see
ing the blessed Jesus, and shew no other spi
rit of a gentleman, but such as they might
have got by living with the holy Apostles.
They must learn to love God with all their
heart, with all their soul, and with all their
strength, and their neighbour as themselves ;
and then they have all the greatness and dis
tinction that they can have here, and are lit
for an eternal happiness in heaven hereafter.
Thus in all orders and conditions, either of
men or women, this is the one common holiness,
which is to be the common life of all Christians.
The Merchant is not to leave devotion to
the Clergyman, nor the Clergyman to leave
humility to the labourer ; women of fortune
. are not to leave it to the poor of their sex,
/ to be discreet^ chaste, keepers at home, to adorn
themselves in modest apparel, shamefacedness
and sobriety ; nor poor 'women leave it to the
rich to attend at the worship and service of
God. Great men must be eminent for true.
poverty of spirit, and people of a low and
afflicted state must greatly rejoyce in God.
The man of strength and power is to for
give and pray for his enemies, and the inno
cent sufferer that is chain 'd in prison, must
with Paul and Silas , at midnight sing praises
to God. For God is to be glorified, holiness
is
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 57
is to be practised, and the spirit of Religion
ivS to be the common spirit of every Christian
in every state and condition of life.
For the Son of God did not come from
above, to add an external form of worship to
the several ways of life that are in the world ;
and so to leave people to live as they did before,
in such tempers and enjoyments as the fashion
and spirit of the world approves. But as he
came down from heaven, altogether divine and
heavenly in his own nature, so it was to call
mankind to a divine and heavenly life ; to
the highest change of their whole nature and
temper ; to be born again of the holy spirit ;
to walk in the wisdom and light and love of
God ; and be like him to the utmost of their
power ; to renounce all the most plausible
ways of the world, whether of greatness,
business, or pleasure; to a mortification of all
their most agreeable passions ; and to live in
such wisdom, and purity and holiness, as
might fit them to be glorious in the enjoy
ment of God to all eternity.
Whatever therefore is foolish, ridiculous,
vain, or earthly, or sensual in the life of a
Christian, is something that ought not to be
there, that is a spot and a defilement that must be
'washed away with tears of repentance. But
if any thing of this kind runs thro' the
course of our whole life, if we allow our selves
in things that are either vain, foolish, or
sensual, we renounce our profession.
For as sure as Jesus Christ was wisdom and
holiness, as sure as he came to make us like
himself
i58
A Serious CALL
himself, and to be baptiz'd into his spirit, so
sure is it, that none ean be said to keep to
their Christian profession, but they who to
the utmost of their power, live a wise and
holy and heavenly life. This and this alone
is Christianity, an universal holiness in every
part of life, a heavenly wisdom in all our ac
tions, not conforming to the spirit and temper
of the world, but turning all worldly enjoy
ments into means of piety and devotion to
God.
But now if this devout state of heart, if
these habits of inward holiness be true Reli
gion, then true Religion is equally the duty
and happiness of all orders of men ; for there
is nothing to recommend it to one, that is
not the same recommendation of it to all states
of people.
If it be the happiness and glory of a Bishop
to live in this devout spirit, full of these ho
ly tempers, doing every thing as unto God,
it is as much the glory and happiness of all
men and women, whether young or old, to
live in the same spirit. And whoever can
find any reasons, why an antient Bishop should
be intent upon divine things, turning all his
life into the highest exercises of piety, wis
dom, and devotion, will find them so many
reasons, why he should to the utmost of his
power, do the same himself.
If you say that a Bishop must be an eminent
example of Christian holiness, because of his
high and sacred calling, you say right. But
if
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 59
if you say that it is more to his advantage to
be exemplary, than it is yours, you greatly
mistake. For there is nothing to make the
highest degrees of* holiness desirable to a
Bishop, but what makes them equally desir
able to every young person of every fami-
Jy-
For an exalted piety, high devotion, and
the religious use of every thing, is as much
the glory and happiness of one state of life,
as it is of another.
Do but fancy in your mind what a spirit of
piety you would have in the best Bishop in the
world, how you would have him love God,
how you would have him imitate the life of our
Saviour and his Apostles, how you would
have him live above the world, shining in all
the instances of a heavenly life, and then you
have found out that spirit, which you ought
to make the spirit of your own life.
I desire every reader to dwell a while upon
this reflection, and perhaps he will find more
conviction from it, than he imagines. Every
one can tell how good and pious he would
have some people to be; every one knows
how wise and reasonable a thing it is in a
Bishop, to be entirely above the world, and
be an eminent example of Christian perfection :
As soon as you think of a wise and antient
Bishop, you fancy some exalted degree of pie
ty, a living example of all those holy tempers,
which you find describ'd in the Gospel.
L Now
160 A Serious CALL
Now if you ask your self, what is the
happiest thing for a young Clergyman to do ?
You must be forc'd to answer, that nothing
can be so happy and glorious for him, as to
be like that excellent, holy Bishop.
If you go on, and ask what is the happiest
thing, for any young Gentleman or his sisters
to do ? The answer must be the same ; that
nothing can be so happy or glorious for them,
as to live in such habits of piety, in such ex
ercises of a divine life, as this good old Bishop
does. For every thing that is great and glo
rious in Religion, is as much the true glory
of every man or woman, as it is the glory of
any Bishop. If high degrees of divine love,
if fervent charity, if spotless purity, if hea
venly affection, if constant mortification, if
frequent devotion be the best and happiest
way of life for any Christian ; it is so for
every Christian.
Consider again ; if you was to see a Bishop
in the whole course of his life, living below
his character, conforming to all the foolish
tempers of the world, and governed by the
same cares and fears which govern vain and
worldly men, what would you think of him ?
Would you think that he was only guilty of
a small mistake ? No. You would condemn
him, as erring in that which is not only the
most, but the only important matter that relates
to him. Stay a while in this consideration,
till your mind is fully convinced, how miser
able
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 6 1
able a mistake it is in a Bishop to live a
careless, worldly life.
Whilst you are thinking in this manner,
turn your thoughts towards some of your
acquaintance, your brother or sister, or
any young person. Now if you see the
common course of their lives to be not ac
cording to the doctrines of the Gospel, if
you see that their way of life cannot be
said to be a sincere endeavour to enter in
at the straight gate, you see something
that you are to condemn in the same de
gree, and for the same reasons. They
don't commit a small mistake, but are wrong
in that which is their all, and mistake
their true happiness, as much as that Bishop
does, who neglects the high duties of his
calling. Apply this reasoning to your self;
if you find your self living an idle, in
dulgent, vain life, chusing rather to gra
tify your passions, than to live up to the
doctrines of Christianity, and practise the
plain precepts of our blessed Lord, you
have all that blindness and unreasonable
ness to charge upon your self, that you
can charge upon any irregular Bishop.
For all the virtues of the Christian
life, its perfect purity, its heavenly tem
pers, are as much the sole rule of your
life, as the sole rule of the life of a Bi
shop. If you neglect these holy tempers,
if you don't eagerly aspire after them, if
you
1 62 A Serious CALL
you do not shew your self a visible
example of them, you are as much fallen
from your true happiness, you are as
great an enemy to your self, and have
made as bad a choice, as that Bishop that
chuses rather to enrich his family, than to
be like an Apostle. For there is no rea
son, why you should think the highest
holiness, the most heavenly tempers, to be
the duty and happiness of a Bishop ; but
what is as good a reason, why you should
think the same tempers, to be the duty
and happiness of all Christians. And as
the wisest Bishop in the world, is he who
lives in the greatest heights of holiness,
who is most exemplary in all the exercises
of a divine life, so the 'wisest youth , the
wisest 'woman, whether marry'd, or unmar-
ry'd, is she, that lives in the highest de
grees of Christian holiness, and all the ex
ercises of a divine and heavenly life.
CHAP.
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 6 3
CHAP. XI
Shelving hofw great devotion Jills our lives with
the greatest peace and happiness, that can be
enjoy' d in this 'world
COME people perhaps object, that all
^f these rules of holy living unto God in
all that we do, are too great a restraint upon
human life ; that it will be made too anxious
a state, by thus introducing a regard to God
in all our actions. And that by depriving our
selves of so many seemingly innocent plea
sures, we shall render our lives dull, uneasy,
and melancholy.
To which it may be answer'd :
First, That these rules are prescrib'd for,
and will certainly procure a quite contrary
end. That instead of making our lives dull
and melancholy, they will render them full
of content and strong satisfactions. That by
these rules we only change the childish satis
factions of our vain and sickly passions, for
the solid enjoyments, and real happiness of a
sound nt'nitl.
Secondly, That as there is no foundation for
comfort in the enjoyments of this life, but in
the assurance that a wise and good God go-
Verneth
164
Serious CALL
verneth the world, so the more we find out
God in every thing, the more we apply to
him in every place, the more we look up to
him in all our actions, the more we conform
to his will, the more we act according to his
wisdom, and imitate his goodness, by so
much the more do we enjoy God, partake of
the divine nature, and heighten and increase
all that is happy and comfortable in human
life.
Thirdly, He that is endeavouring to subdue
and root out of his mind all those passions of
pride, envy, and ambition, which religion op
poses, is doing more to make himself happy,
even in this life, than he that is contriving
means to indulge them.
For these passions are the causes of all the
disquiets and vexations of human life : They
are the dropsies and fevers of our minds, vex
ing them with false appetites, and restless
cravings after such things as we do not want,
and spoiling our taste for those things which
are our proper good.
Do but imagine that you some where or
other saw a man, that propos'd reason as the
rule of all his actions, that had no desires but
after such things as nature wants, and religion
approves, that was as pure from all the mo
tions of pride, envy, and covetousness, as from
thoughts of murder ; that in this freedom
from worldly passions, he had a soul full of
divine
to a Devout and Holy .Life 165
divine love, wishing and praying that all men
may have what they want of worldly things,
and be partakers of eternal glory in the life
to come.
Do but fancy a man living in this manner,
and your own conscience will immediately
tell you, that he is the happiest man in the
world, and that it is not in the power of the
richest fancy to invent any higher happiness in
the present state of life.
And on the other hand, if you suppose
him to be in any degree less perfect ; if you
suppose him but subject to one foolish fond
ness, or vain passion, your own conscience
will again tell you, that he so far lessens his
own happiness, and robs himself of the true
enjoyment of his other virtues. So true is it,
that the more we live by the rules of religion,
the more peaceful and happy do we render
our lives.
Again, as it thus appears, that real happi
ness is only to be had from the greatest degrees
of piety, the greatest denials of our passions,
and the strictest rules of religion, so the same
truth will appear from a consideration of hu
man misery. If we look into the world, and
view the disquiets and troubles of human
life, we shall find that they are all owing to
our violent and irreligious passions.
Now all trouble and uneasiness is founded
in the •want of something or other ; would
we therefore know the true cause of our trou
bles and disquiets, we must find out the cause
of
1 66 A Serious CALL
of our wants ; because that which creates and
increaseth our wants, does in the same de
gree create and increase our trouble and dis
quiets.
God almighty has sent us into the world
with very few wants ; meat, and drink, and
cloathing, are the only things necessary in life ;
and as these are only our present needs, so the
present world is well furnish'd to supply these
needs. .
If a man had half the world in his power,
he can make no more of it than this ; as he
wants it only to supply an animal life, so is
it unable to do any thing else for him, or to
afford him any other happiness.
This is the state of man, born with few
wants, and into a large world, very capable
of supplying them. 80 that one would rea
sonably suppose, that men should pass their
lives in content and thankfulness to God, at
least that they should be free from violent
disquiets and vexations, as being placed in a
world, that has more than enough to relieve
all their wants.
But if to all this we add, that this short
life, thus furnish'd with all that we want in
it, is only a short passage to eternal glory,
where we shall be cloathed with the bright
ness of angels, and enter into the joys of God,
we might still more reasonably expect, that
human life should be a state of peace, and
joy, and delight in God. Thus it would cer
tainly
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 67
tainly be, if reason had its full power over
us.
But alas, though God, and Nature, and
Reason, make human life thus free from,
wants, and so full of happiness, yet our pas-
sions, in rebellion against God, against nature
and reason, create a new world of evils, and
fill human life with imaginary wants, and
vain disquiets.
The man of pride has a thousand wants,
which only his own pride has created ; and
these render him as full of trouble, as if God
had created him with a thousand appetites ,
without creating any thing that was proper to
satisfy them. Envy and Ambition have also
their endless wants, which disquiet the souls of
men, and by their contradictory motions, ren
der them as foolishly miserable, as those that
want to^y and creep at the same time.
Let but any complaining, disquieted man
tell you the ground of his uneasiness, and
you will plainly see, that he is the author of
his own torment ; that he is vexing himself
at some imaginary evil, which will cease to
torment him, as soon as he is content to be
that which God, and nature, and reason require
him to be.
If you should see a man passing his days in
disquiet, because he could not w alk upon the
wafer, or catch birds as they fly by him,
you would readily confess, that such a one
niioht thank himself for such uneasiness.
But now if you look into all the most tor
menting
1 68 A Serious CALL
menting disquiets of life, you will find them
all thus absurd ; where people are only tor
mented by their own folly, and vexing them
selves at such things as no more concern them,
nor are any more their proper good, than
'walking upon the water, or catching birds.
What can you conceive more silly and ex
travagant, than to suppose a man racking
his brains, and studying night and day how
to Jly ? ivandring from his own house and
home, wearying himself with climbing upon
every ascent, cringing and courting every body
he meets, to lift him up from the ground,
bruising himself with continual falls, and at
last breaking his neck ? And all this, from an
imagination that it would be glorious to have
the eyes of people gazing up at him, and
mighty happy to eat, and drink, and sleep,
at the top of the highest trees in the king
dom. Would you not readily own, that such
a one was only disquieted by his own folly ?
If you ask, what it signifies to suppose such
silly creatures as these, as are no where to be
found in human life ?
It may be answer 'd, that where-ever you
see an ambitious man, there you see this vain
and senseless Jlyer.
Again, if you should see a man that had a
large pond of 'water, yet living in continual
thirst, not suffering himself to drink half a
draught, for fear of lessening his pond ; if you
should see him wasting his time and strength,
in fetching more water to his pond, always
thirsiy
to a Devout and Holy Life 169
thirsty, yet always carrying a bucket of water
in his hand, watching early and late to catch
the drops of rain, gaping after every cloud,
and running greedily into every mire and mud,
in hopes of water, and always studying how
to make every ditch empty its self into his
pond. If you should see him grow grey and
old in these anxious labours, and at last end a
careful, thirsty life, by falling into his own
pond, would you not say that such a one was
not only the author of all his own disquiets,
but was foolish enough to be reckon'd amongst
ideots and madmen ? But yet foolish and ab
surd as this character is, it does not represent
half the follies, and absurd disquiets of the
covetous man.
I could now easily proceed to shew the same
effects of all our other passions ; and make it
plainly appear, that all our miseries, vexa
tions, and complaints, are entirely of our own
making, and that in the same absurd manner,
as in these instances of the covetous and ambi
tious man. Look where you will, you will
see all 'worldly vexations but like the vexation
of him, that was always in mire and mud in
search of water to drink, when he had more
at home than was sufficient for an hundred
horses.
Calia is always telling you how^>r0iv?/£Vshe
is, what intolerable shocking things happen to
her, what monstrous usage she surfers, and
what vexations she meets with every-where.
She tells you that her patience is quite wore
out
170 A Serious CALL
out, and there is no bearing the behaviour of
people. Every assembly that she is at, sends
her home provok'd ; something or other has
been said, or done, that no reasonable, well-
bred person ought to bear. Poor people that
want her charity, are sent away with hasty
answers, not because she has not a heart to part
with any money, but because she is too full of
some trouble of her own, to attend to the
complaints of others. Calta has no business
upon her hands, but to receive the income of
a plentiful fortune ; but yet by the doleful
turn of her mind, you would be apt to think,
that she had neither food nor lodging. If you
see her look more pale than ordinary, if her
lips tremble when she speaks to you, it is be
cause she is just come from a visit, where Lupus
took no notice at all of her, but talked all
the time to Luanda, who has not half her
fortune. When cross accidents have so dis-
order'd her spirits, that she is forc'd to send
for the Doctor to make her able to eat ; she
tells him, in great anger at providence, that
she never was well since she was born, and
that she envies every beggar that she sees in
health.
This is the disquiet life of Calia, who has
nothing to torment her but her own spirit.
If you could inspire her with clrishnn humi
lity, you need do no more to make her as
happy as any person in the world. This vir
tue would make her thankful to God for half
so much health as she has had, and help her
to
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 7 1
to enjoy more for the time to come. This vir
tue would keep off tremblings of the spirits,
and loss of appetite, and her blood would need
nothing else to sweeten it.
I have just touched upon these absurd cha
racters for no other end, but to convince you
in the plainest manner, that the strictest rules
of religion are so far from rendering a life dull,
anxious, and uncomfortable, (as is above object
ed) that, on the contrary, all the miseries,
vexations, and complaints that are in the
world, are all owing to the 'want of religion ;
being directly caused by those absurd passions,
which religion teaches us to deny.
For all the nvants which disturb human life,
which make us uneasy to ourselves, quarrel
some with others, and unthankful to God ;
which weary us in vain labours and foolish
anxieties ; which carry us from project to pro
ject, from place to place, in a poor pursuit of
we don't know what, are the wants which nei
ther God, nor nature, nor reason hath subject
ed us to, but are solely infused into us by
pride, envy, ambition, and covetousness.
So far therefore as you reduce your desires
to such things as nature and reason require ; so
far as you regulate all the motions of your
heart by the strict rules of religion, so far you
remove yourself from that infinity of wants
and vexations, which torment every heart that
is left to itself.
Most people indeed confess, that religion
preserves us from a great many evils, and
helps
172 A Serious CALL
helps us in many respects to a more happy en
joyment of ourselves ; but then they imagine,
that this is only true of such a moderate share
of religion, as only gently restrains us from
the excesses of our passions. They suppose
that the strict rules and restraints of an exalted
piety, are such contradictions to our nature, as
must needs make our lives dull and uncomfor
table.
Altho' the weakness of this objection suffi
ciently appears from what hath been already
said, yet I shall add one word more to it.
This objection supposes, that religion mode
rately practised, adds much to the happiness of
life ; but that such heights of piety as the
perfection of religion requireth, have a con
trary effect.
It supposes therefore, that it is happy to be
kept from the excesses of envy, but unhappy
to be kept from other degrees of envy. That
it is happy to be deliver 'd from a boundless
ambition, but unhappy to be without a more
moderate ambition. It supposes also, that the
happiness of life consists in a mixture of virtue
and vice, a mixture of ambition and humili
ty, charity and envy, heavenly affection and
covetousness. All which is as absurd, as to
suppose that it is happy to be free from exces
sive pains, but unhappy to be without more
moderate pains; or that the happiness of health
consisted in being partly sick, and partly well.
For if humility be the peace and rest of the
soul, then no one has so much happiness from
humility
to a Devout and Holy Life 173
humility, as he that is the most humble. If
excessive envy is a torment of the soul, he
most perfectly delivers himself from torment,
that most perfectly extinguishes every spark of
envy. If there is any peace and joy in doing
any action according to the will of God, he
that brings the most of his actions to this
rule, does most of all increase the peace and
joy of his life.
And thus it is in every virtue ; if you act
up to every degree of it, the more happiness
you have from it. And so of every vice ; if
you only abate its excesses, you do but little
for yourself; but if you reject it in all de
grees, then you feel the true ease and joy of a
reformed mind.
As for example : If religion only restrains
the excesses of revenge, but lets the spirit still
live within you in lesser instances, your religi
on may have made your life a little more out
wardly decent, but not made you at all hap
pier or easier in yourself. But if you have
once sacrific'd all thoughts of revenge, in obe
dience to God, and are resolv'd to return good
for evil at all times, that you may render
yourself more like to God, and fitter for his
mercy in the kingdom of love and glory ;
this is a height of virtue that will make you
feel its happiness.
Secondly, As to those satisfactions and en
joyments which an exalted piety requireth us
to deny ourselves, this deprives us of no real
comfort of life. For
174 <d Serious CALL
For, 1st, Piety requires us to renounce no
ways of life, where we can act reasonably, and
offer what we do to the glory of God. All
ways of life, all satisfactions and enjoyments
that are within these bounds, are no way de-
ny'd us by the strictest rules of piety. What
ever you can do, or enjoy, as in the presence of
God, as his servant, as his rational creature,
that has received reason and knowledge from
him ; all that you can perform conformably
to a rational nature, and the will of God, all
this is allowed by the laws of piety ? And
will you think that your life will be uncom
fortable, unless you may displease God, be a
fool and mad, and act contrary to that reason
and wisdom which he has implanted in you ?
And as for those satisfactions, which we
dare not offer to a holy God, which are only
invented by the folly and corruption of the
world, which inflame our passions, and sink
our souls into grossness and sensuality, and
render us incapable of the di\ ine favour either
here or hereafter ; surely it can be no uncom
fortable state of life, to be rescu'd by religion
from such self-murder, and to be rendered ca
pable of eternal happiness.
Let us suppose a person destitute of that
knowledge which we have from our senses,
placed somewhere alone by himself, in the
midst of a variety of things which he did not
know how to use : that he has by him bread.,
ivine, water, golden dust, iron chains, gravel,
garments, Jire, &c. Let it be supposed, that
he
to a Devout and Holy Life 175
he has no knowledge of the right use of these
things, nor any direction from his senses how
to quench his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or
make any use of the things about him. Let
it be supposed, that in his drought he puts
golden dust into his eyes ; when his eyes smart,
he puts wine into his ears ; that in his hunger,
he puts gravel in his mouth ; that in pain, he
loads himself with the iron chains ; that feel
ing cold, he puts his feet in the water ; that
being frighted at the fire, he runs away from
it ; that being weary, he makes a seat of his
bread. Let it be supposed, that thro' his ig
norance of the right use of the things that are
about him, he will vainly torment himself
whilst he lives ; and at last dye, blinded with
dust, choaked with gravel, and loaded with
irons. Let it be suppos'd, that some good
Being came to him, and shew'd him the na
ture and use of all the things that were about
him, and gave him such strict rules of using
them, as would certainly, if observed, make
him the happier for all that he had, and deli
ver him from the pains of hunger, and thirst,
and cold.
Now could you with any reason affirm, that
those strict rules of using those things that
were about him, had render'd that poor man's
lire dull and uncomfortable.
Now this is in some measure a representa
tion of the strict rules of religion ; they only
relieve our ignorance, save us from torment
ing
176 A Serious CALL
ing ourselves, and teach us to use every thing
about us to our proper advantage.
Man is placed in a world full of variety of
things ; his ignorance makes him use many of
them as absurdly, as the man that puts dust in
his eyes to relieve his thirst, or puts on chains
to remove pain.
Religion therefore here comes in to his re
lief, and gives him strict rules of using every
thing that is about him ; that by so using them
suitably to his own nature, and the nature of
the things, he may have always the pleasure
of receiving a right benefit from them. It
shews him what is strictly right in meat, and
drink, and cloaths ; and that he has nothing
else to expect from the things of this world,
but to satisfy such wants of his own ; and
then to extend his assistance to all his brethren,
that as far as he is able, he may help all his
fellow-creatures to the same benefit from the
world that he hath.
It tells him, that this world is incapable of
giving him any other happiness ; and that all
endeavours to be happy in heaps of money, or
acres of land, in fine cloaths, rich beds, state
ly equipage, and shew and splendor, are only
vain endeavours, ignorant attempts after im
possibilities ; .these things being no more able
to give the least degree of happiness, than
dust in the eyes can cure thirst, or gravel in
the mouth satisfy hunger ; but, like dust and
gravel misapply'd, will only serve to render
him
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 77
him more unhappy by such an ignorant mis
use of them.
It tells him, that altho' this world can do
no more for him, than satisfy these wants of
the body ; yet that there is a much greater
good prepared for man, than eating, drinking,
and dressing ; that it is yet invisible to his
eyes, being too glorious for the apprehension
of flesh and blood ; but reserved for him to
enter upon, as soon as this short life is over ;
where in a new body, form'd to an angelick
likeness, he shall dwell in the light and glory
of God to all eternity.
It tells him, that this state of glory will be
given to all those, that make a right use of the
things of this present world ; who do not blind
themselves with golden dust, or eat gravel, or
groan under loads of iron of their own putting
on ; but use bread, 'water, wine, and garments,
for such ends as are according to nature and
reason ; and who with faith and thankfulness
worship the kind giver of all that they enjoy
here, and hope for hereafter.
Now can any one say, that the strictest rules
of such a religion as this, debar us of any of
the comforts of life ? Might it not as justly be
said of those rules, that only hindred a man
from cboaking himself with gravel ? For the
strictness of these rules only consists in the
exactness of their rectitude.
Who would complain of the severe strictness
of a law, that without any exception forbad
the putting of dust into our eyes ? Who could
think
1-78 A Serious CALL
think' it too rigid, that there were no abate
ments ? Now this is the strictness of religion,
it requires nothing of us strictly, or without
abatements, but where every degree of the
thing is wrong, where every indulgence does
us some hurt.
If religion forbids all instances of revenge
without any exception, 'tis because all revenge
is of the nature of poison ; and though we
don't take so much as to put an end to life,
yet if we take any at all, it corrupts the whole
mass of blood, and makes it difficult to be
restor'd to our former health.
If religion commands an universal charity,
to love our neighbour as ourselves, to forgive
and pray for all our enemies without any re
serve ; 'tis because all degrees of love are de
grees of happiness, that strengthen and sup
port the divine life of the soul, and are as ne
cessary to its health and happiness, as proper
food is necessary to the health and happiness
of the body.
If religion has laws against laying up trea
sures upon earth, and commands us to be con
tent with food and raiment ; 'tis because every
other use of the world is abusing it to our
own vexation, and turning all its convenien-
cies into snares and traps to destroy us. 'Tis
because this plainness and simplicity of life, se
cures us from the cares and pains of restless
pride and envy, and makes it easier to keep
that straight road that will carry us to eternal
life.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 179
If religion saith, Sell that thou hast, and
give to the poor ; 'tis because there is no other
natural or reasonable use of our riches, no
other way of making ourselves happier for
them ; 'tis because it is as strictly right to give
others that which we do not want ourselves, as
'tis right to use so much as our own wants re
quire. For if a man has more food than his
own nature requires, how base and unreason
able is it, to invent foolish ways of wasting it,
and make sport for his own full belly , rather
than let his fellow-creatures have the same
comfort from food, which he hath had. It is
so far therefore from being a hard law of reli
gion, to make this use of our riches, that a
reasonable man would rejoice in that religion,
which teaches him to be happier in that which
he gives away, than in that which he keeps
for himself; which teaches him to make spare
food and raiment be greater blessings to him,
than that which feeds and cloaths his own
body.
If religion requires us sometimes tofasf, and
deny our natural appetites, 'tis to lessen that
struggle and war that is in our nature ; 'tis to
render our bodies fitter instruments of purity,
and more obedient to the good motions of di
vine grace ; 'tis to dry up the springs of our
passions that war against the soul, to cool the
flame of our blood, and render the mind more
capable of divine meditations. So that al-
tho' these abstinences give some pain to the
body, yet they so lessen the power of bodily
appe-
180 A Serious CALL
appetites and passions, and so increase our
taste of spiritual joys, that even these severi
ties of religion, when practis'd with discretion,
add much to the comfortable enjoyment of
our lives. '
If religion calleth us to a life of •watching
and prayer, 'tis because we live amongst a
crowd of enemies, and are always in need of
the assistance of God. If we are to confess and
bewail our sins, 'tis because such confessions re
lieve the mind, and restore it to ease ; as bur
dens and weights taken off the shoulders, relieve
the body, and make it easier to itself. If we
are to be frequent and fervent in holy peti
tions, 'tis to keep us steady in the sight of our
true good, and that we may never want the
happiness of a lively faith, a joyful hope, and
well-grounded trust in God. If we are to
pray often, 'tis that we may be often happy
in such secret joys as only prayer can give ; in
such conmunications of the divine presence,
as will fill our minds with all the happiness,
that beings not in heaven are capable of.
Was there any thing in the world more
worth our care, was there any exercise of the
mind, or any conversation with men, that
turned more to our advantage than this inter
course with God, we should not be called to
such a continuance in prayer. But if a man
considers what it is that he leaves when he re
tires to devotion, he will find it no small hap
piness to be so often relieved from doing no-
thing, or nothing to the purpose ; from dull
idle-
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 8 1
idleness, unprofitable labour, or vain conver
sation. If he considers, that all that is in the
world, and all that is doing in it, is only for
the body, and bodily enjoyments, he will
have reason to rejoyce at those hours of prayer,
which carry him to higher consolations, which
raise him above these poor concerns, which
open to his mind a scene of greater things,
and accustom his soul to the hope and expecta
tion of them.
If religion commands us to live wholly un
to God, and to do all to his glory, 'tis because
every other way, is living 'wholly against our
selves, and will end in our own shame and
confusion of face.
As every thing is dark, that God does not
enlighten ; as every thing is senseless, that has
not its share of knowledge from him ; as no
thing lives, but by partaking of life from
him ; as nothing exists, but because he com
mands it to be ; so there is no glory, or great
ness, but what is the glory or greatness of
God.
We indeed may talk of human glory, as we
may talk of human life, or human knowledge ;
but as we are sure that human life implies
nothing of our own, but a dependant living
in God, or enjoying so much life in God ; so
human glory, whenever we find it, must be
only so much glory as we enjoy in the glory
of God.
This is the state of all creatures, whether
men or angels ; as they make not themselves,
so
1 82 A Serious CALL
so they enjoy nothing from themselves; if
they are great, it must be only as great re
ceivers of the gifts of God ; their power can
only be so much of the divine Power acting in
them ; their 'wisdom can be only so much of
the divine Wisdom shining within them, and
their light and glory, only so much of the
light and glory of God shining upon them.
As they are not men or angels, because they
had a mind to be so themselves, but because
the will of God formed them to be what they
are ; so they cannot enjoy this or that happi
ness of men or angels, because they have a
mind to it, but because it is the will of God,
that such things be the happiness of men, and
such things the happiness of angels. But now
if God be thus all in all ; if his will is thus
the measure of all things, and all natures ; if
nothing can be done, but by his power; if
nothing can be seen, but by a light from him ;
if we have nothing to fear, but from his ju
stice ; if we have nothing to hope for, but
from his goodness; if this is the nature of man,
thus helpless in himself; if this is the state of
all creatures, as well those in heaven, as those
on earth ; if they are nothing, can do nothing,
can suffer no pain, nor feel any happiness, but
so far, and in such degrees, as the power of God
does all this : if this be the state of things,
then how can we have the least glimpse of joy
or comfort, how can we have any peaceful en
joyment of ourselves, but by living wholly
unto that God, using and doing every thing
conform-
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 8 3
conformably to his will ? A life thus devoted
unto God, looking wholly unto him in all
our actions, and doing all things suitably to
his glory, is so far from being dull, and un
comfortable, that it creates, new comforts in
every thing that we do.
On the contrary, would you see how happy
they are who live according to their own
wills, who cannot submit to the dull and me
lancholy business of a life devoted unto God ;
look at the man in the parable, to whom his
Lord had given one talent?
He could not bear the thoughts of using
his talent according to the will of him from
whom he had it, and therefore he chose to
make himself happier in a way of his own.
Lord, says he, / knew thee, that thou art an
hard man, reaping where thou hadst not sown,
and gathering where thou hast not strawed.
And I was afraid, and 'went and hid thy talent
in the earth. Lo there thou hast that is thine.
His Lord having convicted him out of his
own mouth, dispatches him with , _.
,. k , r Mat. xxv. 24.
this sentence, Last the unprofi
table servant into outer darkness ; there shall be
weeping, and gnashing of teeth.
Here you see how happy this man made
himself by not acting wholly according to his
Lord's will, it was, according to his own
account, a hnppinrss of murmuring and discoti-
lent ; I knew thee, says he, that thou wast an
hard man : It was an happiness of fears and
apprehensions ; I was, says he, afraid: It was
an
184 A Serious CALL
an happiness of vain labours and fruitless tra-
1V///J : I went, says he, and bid thy talent ;
and after having been a while the sport of
foolish passions, tormenting fears, and fruitless
labours, he is rewarded with darkness, eternal
weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Now this is the happiness of all those, who
look upon a strict and exalted piety, that is,
a right use of their talent, to be a dull and
melancholy state of life. „
They may live awhile free from the re
straints and directions of Religion, but instead
thereof, they must be under the absurd go
vernment of their passions : They must like
the man in the parable, live in murmuring s,
and discontents, in fears and apprehensions.
They may avoid the labour of doing good,
of spending their time devoutly, of laying
up treasures in heaven, of cloathing the na
ked, of visiting the sick ; but then they must,
like this man, have labours, and pains in
vain, that tend to no use or advantage, that
do no good either to themselves, or others ;
they must travail, and labour, and work, and
dig to hide their talent in the earth. They
must like him, at their Lord's coming, be con
victed out of their own mouths, be accus'd
by their own hearts, and have every thing
that they have said and thought of Religion,
be made to shew the justice of their condem
nation to eternal darkness, weeping and
gnashing of teeth.
This
to a Devout and Holy Life 185
This is the purchase that they make, who
avoid the strictness and perfection of Religion,
in order to live happily.
On the other hand, would you see a short
description of the happiness of a life rightly
employ'd, wholly devoted to God, you must
look at the man in the parable, to whom his
Lord had given five talents. Lord, says he,
thou deliver edst unto me Jive talents : behold I
have gain d besides them Jive talents more. His
Lord said unto him, well done thou good and
faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over
a few things, I will make thee ruler over many
things ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.
Here you see a life that is wholly intent up
on the improvement of the talents, that is
devoted wholly unto God, is a state of hap
piness, prosperous labours, and glorious suc
cess. Here are not, as in the former case, any
uneasy passions, murmurings, vain fears, and
fruitless labours. The man is not toiling, and
digging in the earth for no end or advantage ;
but his pious labours prosper in his hands, his
happiness increases upon him, the blessing of
five becomes the blessing of ten talents ; and
he is receiv'd with a well done good and faithful
servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.
Now as the case of these men in the para
ble, left nothing else to their choice, but either
to be happy in using their gifts to the glory
of the Lord, or miserable by using them ac
cording to their own humours 2X\& fancies ; so
the
1 86 A Serious CALL
the state of" Christianity leaves us no other
choice.
All that we have, all that we are, all that
we enjoy, are only so many talents from
God : it' we use them to the ends of a pious
and holy life, our five talents will become ten,
and our labours will carry us into the joy of
our Lord ; but if we abuse them to the grati
fications of our own passions, sacrificing the
gifts of God to our own pride and vanity, we
shall live here in vain labours and foolish
anxieties, shunning Religion as a melancholy
thing, accusing our Lord as a hard master,
and then fall into everlasting misery.
We may for a while amuse our selves with
names, and sounds, and shadows of happiness ;
we may talk of this or that greatness and dig
nity ; but if we desire real happiness, we
have no other possible way to it, but by im
proving our talents, by so holily and piously
using the powers and faculties of men in this
present state, that we may be happy and
glorious in the powers and faculties of angels
in the world to come.
How ignorant therefore are they, of the
nature of Religion, of the nature of man,
and the nature of God, who think a life of
strict piety and devotion to God, to be a dull
uncomfortable state. ; when it 's so plain and cer
tain, that there is neither coiv.furt or joy to
be found in any thing else?
CHAP.
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 87
CHAP. XII
The happiness of a life wholly devoted unto God,
farther prov d, from the vanity, the sensua
lity, and the ridiculous, poor enjoyments,
ewh'ich they are for c* d to take up tv ith, nuho
live according to their oivn humours. 1 his
represented in various characters
may still see more of the happiness
of a life devoted unto God, by con
sidering the poor contrivances for happiness,
and the contemptible ways of life, which they
are thrown into, who are not under the dire
ctions of a strict piety, but seeking after hap
piness by other methods.
If one looks at their lives, who live by
no rule but their own humours and fancies ;
if one sees but what it is, which they cail^'oy,
and greatness, and happiness ; if one sees how
they rejoice, and repent, change and fly from
one delusion to another ; one shall find great
reason to rejoyce, that God hath appointed a
straight and narroiv way, that leadeth unto
life, and that we are not left to the folly of
our own minds, or forc'd to take up with such
shadows of joy and happiness, as the weak
ness and folly of the world has invented. I
say invented, because those things which make
up the joy and happiness of the world, are
mere inventions, which have no foundation in
nature
1 88 A Serious CALL
nature and reason, are no way the proper
good or happiness of man, no way perfect
either his body, or his mind, or carry him to
his true end.
As for instance, when a man proposes to
be happy in ways of ambition, by raising him
self to some imaginary heights above other
people ; this is truly an invention of happiness
which has no foundation in nature, but is as
mere a cheat, of our own making, as if a
man should intend to make himself happy by
climbing up a ladder.
If a 'woman seeks for happiness from jine
colours or spots upon her face, from jewels and
rich cloathsy this is as merely an invention of
happiness, as contrary to nature and reason,
as if she should propose to make her self hap
py, by painting a post, and putting the same
finery upon it. It is in this respect that I
call these joys and happiness of the world,
mere inventions of happiness, because neither
God nor nature, nor reason, hath appointed
them as such ; but whatever appears joyful,
or great, or happy in them, is entirely created
or invented by the blindness and vanity of
our own minds.
And it is on these inventions of happiness,
that I desire you to cast your eye, that you
may thence learn, how great a good Religion
is, which delivers you from such a multitude
of follies, and vain pursuits, as are the tor
ment and vexation of minds, that wander
from their true happiness in God.
Look
to a Devout and Holy "Life 1 89
Look at Flatus ; and learn how miserable
they are, who are left to the folly of their
own passions.
Flatus is rich and in health, yet always un
easy, and always searching after happiness.
Every time you visit him, you find some
new project in his head, he is eager upon it
as something that is more worth his while,
and will do more for him, than any thing
that is already past. Every new thing so
seizes him, that if you was to take him from
it, he would think himself quite undone.
His sanguine temper, and strong passions,
promise him so much happiness in every thing,
that he is always cheated, and is satisfied
with nothing.
At his first setting out in \\fe,jme cloaths
was his delight, his enquiry was only after the
best Taylors and Peruke-makers, and he had
no thoughts of excelling in any thing but
dress. He spar'd no expence, but carry'd
every nicety to its greatest height. But this
happiness not answering his expectations, he
left off his Brocades, put on a plain coat,
rail'd at fops and beaux, and gave himself up
to gaming with great eagerness.
This new pleasure satisfy 'd him for some
time, he envy'd no other way of life. But
being by the fate of play drawn into a duel,
where he narrowly escap'd his death, he left
off the dice, and fought for happiness no long
er amongst the gamester^,
The
1 90 A Serious CALL
The next thing that seiz'd his wandring
imagination, was the diversions of the town ;
and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard
him talk of nothing but Ladies, Drawing-
rooms, Birth-nights, Plays, Balls, and Assem
blies. But growing sick of these, he had re
course to hard drinking. Here he had many
a merry night, and met with stronger joys
than any he had felt before. Here he had
thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking
out no farther ; but unluckily falling into a
fever, he grew angry at all strong liquors,
and took his leave of the happiness of being
drunk.
The next attempt after happiness, carry 'd
him into the fa/a1, for two or three years no
thing was so happy as hunting ; he enter'd up
on it with all his soul, and leap'd more hedges
and ditches than had ever "been known in so
short a time. You never saw him but in a
green coat ; he was the envy of all that blow
the horn, and always spoke to his dogs in
great propriety of language. If you met
him at home in a bad day, you would hear
him blow his horn, and be entertain'd with
the surprizing accidents of the last noble chase.
No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in
the breed and education of his dogs, built
new kennels, new stables, and bought a new
hunting seat, but he immediately got sight of
another happiness, hated the senseless noise
and hurry of hunting, gave away his dogs,
and
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 9 1
and was for some time after deep in the plea
sures of building.
Now he invents new kinds of dove-cotes ,
and has such contrivances in his barns and sta
bles, as were never seen before : He wonders
at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly
bent upon the improvement of Architecture,
and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary
way. He tells his friends, that he never was
so delighted in anything in his life ; that he
has more happiness amongst his brick and
morter, than ever he had at court ; and that
he is contriving how to have some little mat
ter to do that way as long as he lives.
The next year he leaves his house unfi-
nish'd, complains to every body of Masons
and Carpenters, and devotes himself wholly
to the happiness of riding about. After this,
you can never see him but on horse-back, and
so highly delighted with this new way of life,
that he would tell you, give him but his
horse and a clean country to ride in, and you
might take all the rest to your self. A varie
ty of new saddles and bridles, and a great
change of horses, added much to the pleasure
of this new way of life. But however, ha
ving after some time tir'd both himself and his
horses, the happiest thing he could think of
next, was to go abroad and visit foreign coun
tries ; and- there indeed happiness exceeded his
imagination, and he was only uneasy that he
had begun so fine a life no sooner. The next
month
192 A Serious CALL
month he return'd home, unable to bear any
longer the impertinence of foreigners.
After this, he was a great student tor one
whole year ; he was up early and late at his
Italian grammar, that he might have the hap
piness of understanding the opera, whenever
he should hear one, and not be like those un
reasonable people, that are pleased with they
don't know what.
Flatus is very ill-natur'd, or otherwise, just
as his affairs happen to be when you visit him ;
if you find him when some project is almost
wore out, you will find a peevish ill-bred
man ; but if you bad seen him just as he en-
ter'd upon his riding regimen, or begun to ex
cel in sounding of the horn, you had been sa-
lute.d with great civility.
Flatus is now at a full stand, and is doing
what he never did in his life before, he is
reasoning and rejlccting with himself. He
loses several days, in considering which of his
cast-off ways of life he should try again.
But here a new project comes into his relief.
He is now living upon herbs, and running
about the country, to get himself into as good
wind as any running -footman in the king
dom.
I have been thus circumstantial in so many
foolish particulars of this kind of life, because
I hope, that every particular folly that you
here see, will naturally turn it self into an
argument for the wisdom and happiness of a
religious life.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 9 3
If I could lay before you a particular ac
count of all the circumstances of terror and
distress, that daily attend a life at sea, the
more particular I was in the account, the
more I should make you feel and rejoice in
the happiness of living upon the land.
In like manner, the more I enumerate the
follies, anxieties, delusions, and restless desires
which go through every part of a life devoted
to human passions, and worldly enjoyments,
the more you must be affected with that peace,
and rest, and solid content, which religion
gives to the souls of men.
If you but just cast your eye upon a mad
man, or afoot, it perhaps signifies little or no
thing to you ; but if you was to attend them
for some days, and observe the lamentable
madness and stupidity of all their actions, this
would be an affecting sight, and would make
you often bless your self for the enjoyment of
your reason and senses.
Just so, if you are only told in the gross,
of the folly and madness of a life devoted to
the world, it makes little or no impression up
on you ; but if you are shown how such peo
ple live every day ; if you see the continual
folly and madness of all their particular acti
ons and designs, this would be an affecting
sight, and make you bless God, for having
given you a greater happiness to aspire
after.
So that characters of this kind, the more
folly and ridicule they have in them, pro
vided
194 A Serious CALL
vided that they be but natural, are most use
ful to correct our minds; and therefore are no
where more proper than in books of devo
tion, and practical piety. And as in several
cases, we best learn the nature of things, by
looking at that which is contrary to them ; so
perhaps we best apprehend the excellency of wis
dom, by contemplating the ivild extravagan
cies of folly.
I shall therefore continue this method a lit
tle farther, and endeavour to recommend the
happiness of piety to you ; by shewing you in
some other instances, how miserably and poor
ly they live, who live without it.
Bui you will perhaps say, that the ridicu
lous, restless life of Flatus, is not the com
mon state of those who resign themselves up
to live by their own humours, and neglect
the strict rules of religion ; and that there
fore it is not so great an argument of the
happiness of a religious life, as I would
make it.
I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the
most general characters in life ; and that few
people can read it, without seeing something
in it that belongs to themselves. For where
shall we find that wise and happy man, who
has not been eagerly pursuing different ap
pearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it
was here, and sometimes there ?
And if people were to divide their lives
into particular stages, and ask themselves
what they were pursuing, or what it was
which
to a Devout and Holy Life 195
which they had chiefly, in view, when they
were twenty years old, what at twenty-Jive,
what at thirty, what at forty, what at [fifty,
and so on, till they were brought to their
last bed ; numbers of people would find, that
they had lik'd, and dislik'd, and pursu'd as
many different appearances of happiness, as
are to be seen in the life of Flatus.
And thus it must necessarily be, more or
less, with all those who propose any other
happiness, than that which arises from a strict
and regular piety.
But Secondly, let it be granted, that the
generality of people are not of such restless,
fickle tempers as Flatus ; the difference then
is only this, Flatus is continually changing and
trying something new, but others are content
with some one state ; they don't leave gaming,
and then fall to hunting. But they have so
much steadiness in their tempers, that some
seek after no other happiness, but that of
heaping up riches ; others grow old in the
sports of thtjfe^/; others are content to drink
themselves to death, without the least en
quiry after any other happiness.
Now is there any thing more happy, or
reasonable, in such a life as this, than in the
life of Flatus ? Is it not as great and desira
ble, as wise and happy, to be constantly
changing from one thing to another, as to be
nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter,
a gamester, or a drunkard, all your life ?
Shall
196 A Serious CALL
Shall religion be look'd upon as a burden,
as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men
from such happiness as this, to live according
to the laws of God, to labour after the per
fection of their nature, and prepare them
selves for an endless state of joy and glory in
the presence of God ?
But turn your eyes now another way, and
let the trifling joys^ the gugaiv-happiness of
Felic'iana, teach you how wise they are, what
delusion they escape, whose hearts and hopes
are fixed upon an happiness in God.
If you was to live with Fellctana but one
half year, you would see all the happiness
that she is to have as long as she lives. She
has no more to come, but the poor repeti
tion of that which could never have pleas'd
once, but through a littleness of mind, and
want of thought.
She is to be again dress'd fine, and keep her
visiting-day. She is again to change the co
lour of her cloaths, again to have a new
heai^ and again put patches on her face. She
is again to see who acts best at the play-house,
and who sings finest at the opera. She is again
to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times
in a day trying to talk artfully, easily and
politely about nothing.
She is to be again delighted with some new
fashion ; and again angry at the change of
some old one. She is to be again at cards,
and gaming at midnight, and again in bed
at noon. She is to be again pleas'd with hypo
critical
to a Devout and Holy Life 1 97
critical compliments, and again disturb'd at ima
ginary affronts. She is to be again pleas'd with
her gofd luck at gaming, and again torment
ed with the loss of her money. She is again
to prepare her self for a birth-night ; and
again see the town full of good company.
She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues
of the town ; again to have secret intelligence
of private amours, and early notice of mar
riages, quarrels, and partings.
If you see her come out of her chariot more
briskly than usual, converse with more spirit,
and seem fuller of joy than she was last week,
it is because there is some surprizing new
dress, or new diversion just come to town.
These are all the substantial and regular
parts of Felicianas happiness ; and she never
knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was
owing to some one, or more, of these
things.
It is for this happiness, that she has always
been deaf to the reasonings of religion, that
her heart has been too gay and chearful to
consider what is right or wrong, in regard to
eternity ; or to listen to the sound of such
dull words, as wisdom, piety, and devotion.
It is for fear of losing some of this happi
ness, that she dares not meditate on the im
mortality of her soul, consider her relation
to God, or turn her thoughts towards those
joys, which make Saints and Angels in
finitely happy in the presence and glory of
God/
But
198 -A Serious CALL
But now let it here be observM, that as
poor a round of happiness as this appears, yet
most women that avoid the restraints of reli
gion for a gay life, must be content with very
small parts of it. As they have not Feliciana's
fortune and figure in the world, so they must
give away the comforts of a pious life, for a
very small part of her happiness.
And if you look into the world, and ob
serve the lives of those women, whom no
arguments can persuade to live wholly unto
God, in a wise and pious employment of
themselves, you will find most of them to be
such, as lose all the comforts of religion,
without gaining the tenth part of Feliclantfs
happiness. They are such as spend their time
and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures
of richer people ; and rather look and long
after, than enjoy those delusions, which are
only to be purchased by considerable for
tunes.
But if a woman of high birth, and great
fortune, having read the Gospel, should ra
ther wish to be an under servant in some pious
family, where wisdom, piety, and great de
votion, directed all the actions of every day ;
if she should rather wish this, than to live at
the top of Feliciana's happiness ; I should
think her neither mad, nor melancholy ; but
that she judg'd as rightly of the spirit of the
Gospel, as if she had rather wish'd to be poor
Lazarus at the gate, than to be the rich man
cloath\l
to a Devout and Holy Life 199
cloatti V in purple and Jlne lumen, and faring
sumptuously every day.
But to proceed ; would you know what an
happiness it is, to be govern'd by the wisdom
of religion, and be devoted to the joys and
hopes of a pious life, look at the poor con
dition of Succns, whose greatest happiness, is
& good nights rest in bed, and a good meal when
he is up. When he talks of happiness, it is
always in such expressions, as shews you, that
he has only his bed and his dinner in his
thoughts.
This regard to his meals and repose, makes
Succus order all the rest of his time with rela
tion to them. He will undertake no business
that may hurry his spirits, or break in upon
his hours of eating and rest. If he reads, it
shall only be for half an hour, because that
is sufficient to amuse the spirits ; and he will
read something that may make him laugh,
as rendering the body fitter for its food and
rest. Or if he has at any time a mind to
indulge a grave thought, he always has re
course to a useful treatise upon the antient
cookery. Succus is an enemy to all party-mat
ters, having made it an observation, that
there is as good eating amongst the Whigs, as
the Tories.
He talks cooly and moderately upon all
subjects, and is as fearful of falling into a
passion, as of catching cold ; being very posi
tive, that they are both equally injurious to
the stomach. If ever you see him more hot
than
200 A Serious CALL
than ordinary, it is upon some provoking oc
casion, when the dispute about cookery runs
very high, or in the defence of some beloved
dish, which has often made him happy. But
he has been so long upon these subjects, is so
well acquainted with all that can be said on
both sides, and has so often answer'd all obje
ctions, that he generally decides the matter
with great gravity.
Succus is very loyal, and as soon as ever he
likes any wine, he drinks the king's health
with all his heart. Nothing could put rebel
lious thoughts into his head, unless he should
live to see a Proclamation against eating of
Pheasant's eggs.
All the hours that are not devoted either
to repose, or nourishment, are look'd upon by
Succus as waste or spare time. For this reason
he lodges near a cfjffee-house and a tavern, that
when he rises in the morning he may be near
the netus, and when he parts at night, he may
not have far to bed. In the morning you al
ways see him in the same place in the coffee-
room, and if he seems more attentively en-
gag'd than ordinary, it is because some crimi
nal is broke out of Newgate, or some Lady
was robb'd last night, but they can't tell where.
When he has learnt all that he can, he goes
home to settle the mutter with the Barber's
boy, that comes to shave him.
The next 'waste-time that lyes upon his
hands, is from dinner to supper. And if me
lancholy thoughts ever come into his head, it
to a Devout and Holy Life 201
is at this time, when he is often left to him
self for an hour or more, and that after the
greatest pleasure he knows is just over. He is
afraid to sleep, because he has heard, it is not
healthful at that time, so that he is forc'd to
refuse so welcome a guest.
But here he is soon reliev'd by a settl'd
method of playing at cards, till it is time
to think of some little nice matter for sup
per.
After this, Succtis takes his glass, talks of
the excellency of the English constitution, and
praises that Minister the most, who keeps the
best table.
On a Sunday night you may sometimes hear
him condemning the iniquity of the to(wn
rakes ; and the bitterest thing that he says a-
gainst them, is this, that he verily believes,
some of them are so abandon'd, as not to
have a regular meal, or a sound nights sleep in
a week.
At eleven Succus bids all good night, and
parts in great friendship. He is presently in
bed, and sleeps till it is time to go to the
coffee-house next morning.
If you was to live with Succus for a twelve
month, this is all that you would see in his
life, except a few curses and oaths that he
uses as occasion offers.
And now 1 cannot help making this Re
flection :
That as I believe the most likely means
in the world to inspire a person with true pie
ty
202 A Serious CALL
ty, was to have seen the example of some
eminent professor of Religion ; so the next
thing that is likely to fill one with the same
zeal, is to see the folly, the baseness, and poor
satisfactions of a life destitute of Religion.
As the one excites us to love and admire the
wisdom and greatness of Religion, so the
other may make us fearful of living without
it.
For who can help blessing God for the means
of grace, and for the hope of glory, when he
sees what variety of folly they sink into, who
live without it ? Who would not heartily en
gage in all the labours and exercises of a pi
ous life, be stedfast, immo'veable^ and always
abounding in the work of the Lord ; when he
sees, what dull sensuality, what poor views,
what gross enjoyments they are left to,
who seek for happiness in other ways.
So~that whether we consider the greatness
of Religion, or the littleness of all other
things, and the meanness of all other enjoy
ments, there is nothing to be found in the
whole nature of things, for a thoughtful
mind to rest upon, but a happiness in the
hopes of Religion.
Consider now with your self how unrea
sonably it is pretended, that a life of strict
piety, must be a dull and anxious state ? For
can it with any reason be said, that the duties
and restraints of Religion must render our
lives heavy and melancholy, when they only
deprive
to a "Devout and Holy Life 203
deprive us of such ^ happiness, as has been
here laid before you ?
Must it be tedious and tiresome to live in
the continual exercise of charity, devotion
and temperance, to act wisely and virtuously,
to do good to the utmost of your power, to
imitate the divine perfections, and prepare
your self for the enjoyment of God ? Must it
be dull and tiresome, to be deliver'd from
blindness and vanity, from false hopes, and
vain fears, to improve in holiness, to feel the
comforts of conscience in all your actions, to
know that God is your friend, that all must
work for your good, that neither life nor
death, neither men nor devils can do you any
harm ; but that all your sufferings and doings,
that are offer'd unto God, all your watchings
and prayers, and labours of love and charity,
all your improvements, are in a short time to
be rewarded with everlasting glory in the pre
sence of God ; must such a state as this be
dull and tiresome, for want of such happiness,
as Flatus or Feliciana enjoys ?
Now if this cannot be said, then there is
no happiness, or pleasure lost, by being strictly
pious, nor has the devout man any thing to
envy in any other state of life. For all the
art. and contrivance in the world, without
Religion, cannot make more of human life,
or carry its happiness to any greater height,
than Flatus or Feliciana have done.
The finest tvit, the greatest genius upon
earth, if not govern'd by Religion, must be as
foolish
204 ^ Serious CALL
foolish, and low and vain in his methods of
happiness, as the poor Succus.
If you was to see a man dully endeavouring
all his life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up
one and the same empty cup to his mouth,
you would certainly despise his ignorance.
But if you should see others of brighter
parts, and Jiner understandings, ridiculing the
dull satisfaction of one cup, and thinking to
satisfy their own thirst by a variety of gilt
and golden empty cups ; would you think
that these were ever the wiser, or happier, or
better employ'd, for their Jiner parts ?
Now this is all the difference that you can
see in the happiness of this life.
The dull and heavy soul, may be content
with one empty appearance of happiness, and
lie continually trying to hold one and the same
empty cup to his mouth all "his life. But then,
let the 'wit, the great scholar, the Jine genius,
the great statesman, the polite gentleman, lay
all their heads together, and they can only
shew you, more, and various, empty appearan
ces of happiness ; give them all the world into
their hands, let them cut and carve as they
please, they can only make a greater variety
of empty cups.
So that if you don't think it hard to be de-
priv'd of the pleasures of gluttony for the sake
of Religion, you have no reason to think it
hard to be restrain'd from any other worldly
pleasure. For search as deep, and look as far
as you will, there is nothing here to be found,
that
to a Devout and Holy Life 205
that is nobler, or greater, than high eating
and drinking, unless you look for it in the
wisdom and laws of Religion.
And if all that is in the world, are only so
many empty cups, what does it signify, which
you take, or how many you take, or how
many you have ?
If you would but use your self to such me
ditations as these, to reflect upon the vanity
of all orders of life without piety, to consider
how all the ways of the world, are only so
many different ways of error, blindness, and
mistake ; you would soon find your heart
made wiser and better by it. These medita
tions would awaken your soul into a zealous
desire of that solid happiness, which is only to
be found in recourse to God.
Examples of great piety are not now com
mon in the world, it may not be your hap
piness to live within sight of any, or to have
your virtue inflam'd by their light and fer
vour. But the misery and folly of worldly
men, is what meets your eyes in every place,
and you need not look far to see, hew poorly,
how vainly men dream away their lives for
want of religious wisdom.
This is the reason that I have laid before
you so many characters of the vanity of a
worldly life, to teach you to make a benefit
of the corruption of the age, and that you
may be made wise, tho' not by the sight of
what piety is, yet by seeing what misery and
folly reigns, where piety is not.
206 A Serious CALL
If you would turn your mind to such re
flections as these, your own observation would
carry this instruction much farther, and all
your conversation and acquaintance with the
world, would be a daily conviction to you, of
the necessity of seeking some greater happi
ness, than all the poor enjoyments of this
world can give.
To meditate upon the perfection of the
divine attributes, to contemplate the glories
of Heaven, to consider the joys of Saints and
Angels living for ever in the brightness and
glory of the divine presence ; these are the
meditations of souls advanced in piety, and
not so suited to every capacity.
But to see and consider the emptiness and
error of all worldly happiness ; to see the
grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride,
the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of
dress, the delusion of honour, the blindness of
our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and
the shortness of all worldly projects; these
are meditations that are suited to all capacities,
fitted to strike all minds; they require no
depth of thought, or sublime speculation,
but are forc'd upon us by all our senses, and
taught us by almost every thing that we see
and hear.
This is that wisdom tbateritth.
Prov. vui. i. , i r i i L
and puttethjortb her voice in the
streets, that stand eth at all our doors, that ap-
pealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every
thing and every where, by all that we see and all
that
to a Devout and Holy Life 207
that we hear, by births and burials, by sick
ness and health, by life and death, by pains
and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by
all the changes and chances of life ; that
there is nothing else for a man to look after,
no other end in nature for him to drive at,
but a happiness which is only to be found in
the hopes and expectations of Religion.
CHAP. XIII
That not only a life of vanity, or sensuality,
but even the most regular kind of life, that
is not govern * d by great devotion, sufficiently
sheivs its miseries, its wants, and empti
ness to the eyes of all the world. This
represented in 'various characters
TT is a very remarkable saying of our Lord
*• and Saviour to his disciples in these words :
Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your
ears, for they hear. They teach us two things :
First, That the dulness and heaviness of men's
minds with regard to spiritual matters, is so
great, that it may justly be compar'd to the
want of eyes and ears.
Secondly, That God has so fill'd every thing
and every place with motives and arguments
for a godly life, that they who are but so
o ' bless'd
208 A Serious CALL
bless'd, so happy as to use their eyes and their
ears, must needs be affected with them.
Now though this was in a more especial
manner, the case of those whose senses were
witnesses of the life and miracles and doctrines
of our blessed Lord, yet is it as truly the case
of all Christians at this time. For the rea
sons of Religion, the calls to piety, are so
written and engrav'd upon every thing, and
present themselves so strongly, and so con
stantly to all our senses in every thing that we
meet ; that they can only be disregarded by
eyes that see not, and ears that hear not.
What greater motive to a religious life,
than the vanity, the poorness of all worldly
enjoyments ? And yet who can help seeing
and feeling this every day of his life ?
What greater call to look towards God,
than the pains, the sickness, the crosses, and
vexations of this life ; and yet whose eyes and
ears are not daily witnesses of them ?
What miracles could more strongly appeal
to our senses, or what message from heaven
speak louder to us, than the daily dying and
departure of our fellow-creatures does ?
So that the one thing needful, or the great
end of life, is not left to be discover'd by fine
reasoning, and deep reflections ; but is press'd
upon us in the plainest manner, by the expe
rience of all our senses, by every thing that
we meet with in life.
Let us but intend to see and hear, and
then the whole world becomes a book of wis
dom
to a Devout and Holy Life 209
dom and instruction to us ; all that is regular
in the order of nature, all that is accidental
in the course of things, all the mistakes and
disappointments that happen to our selves, all
the miseries and errors that we see in other
people ; become so many plain lessons of ad
vice to us ; teaching us with as much assurance
as an Angel from Heaven, that we can no
ways raise our selves to any true happiness,
but by turning all our thoughts, our wishes,
and endeavours, after the happiness of another
life.
It is this right use of the world, that I
would lead you into, by directing you to turn
your eyes upon every shape of human folly,
that you may thence draw fresh arguments
and motives of living to the best and greatest
purposes of your creation.
And if you would but carry this intention
about you, of profiting by the follies of the
world, and of learning the greatness of Re
ligion, from the littleness and vanity of every
other way of life ; if I say, you would but
carry this intention in your mind, you would
find, every day, every place, and every person,
a fresh proof of their wisdom, who chuse to
live wholly unto God. You would then oft
en return home, the wiser, the better, and
the more strengthened in Religion, by every
thing that has fallen in your way.
Octavius is a learned, ingenious man, well
vers'd in most parts of literature, and no
stranger to any kingdom in Europe. The o-
ther
2io A Serious CALL
ther day, being just recover 'd from a lin-
£rmg fever, he took upon him to talk thus to
his friends.
My glass, says he, is almost run out ; and
your eyes see how many marks of age and
death I bear about me : But I plainly feel my
self sinking away faster than any standers-by
imagine. I fully believe, that one year more
will conclude my reckcning.
The attention of his friends was much rais'd
by such a declaration, expecting to hear some
thing truly excellent from so learned a man,
who had but a year longer to live. When
Octavius proceeded in this manner : For these
reasons, says he, my friends, I have left off
all taverns, the wine of those places is not
good enough for me in this decay of nature.
I must now be nice in what I drink ; I can't
pretend to do, as I have done ; and therefore
am resolved to furnish my own cellar with a
little of the very best, tho' it cost me ever so
much.
I must also tell you, my friends, that age
forces a man to be wise in many other re
spects, and makes us change many of our opi
nions and practices.
You know how much I have lik'd a large
acquaintance ; I now condemn it as an error.
Three or four chearful, diverting companions, is
all that I now desire : because I find, that in
my present infirmities, if I am left alone, or
to grave company, I am not so easy to my
self.
A few
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 1 1
A few days after Octavius had made this
declaration to his friends, he relapsed into his
former illness, was committed to a nurse, who
clos'd his eyes, before his fresh parcel of wine
came in.
Young Eugenlus, who was present at this
discourse, went home a new man, with full
resolutions of devoting himself wholly unto
God.
I never, says Eugenlus, was so deeply affect
ed with the wisdom and importance of reli
gion, as when I saw how poorly and meanly
the learned Octavius was to leave the world,
thro' the want of it.
How often had I envy'd his great learning,
his skill in languages, his knowledge of anti
quity, his address, and fine manner of expres
sing himself upon all subjects ! But when I
saw how poorly it all ended, what was to be
the last year of such a life, and how foolishly
the master of all these accomplishments was
then forc'd to talk, for want of being .ac
quainted with the joys and expectations of pie
ty ; I was thoroughly convinced, that there
was nothing to be envy'd or desir'd, but a life
of true piety ; nor any thing so poor and com
fortless, as a death without it.
Now as the young Eugenius was thus edi-
fy'd and instructed in the present case ; so if
you are. so happy as to have any thing of his
thoughtful temper, you will meet with variety
of instruction of this kind; you will find that
arguments for the wisdom and happiness of a
strict
212 A Serious CALL
strict piety, offer themselves in all places, and
appeal to all your senses in the plainest manner.
You will find, that all the world preaches to
an attentive mind ; and that if you have but
ears to hear, almost every thing you meet,
teaches you some lesson of wisdom.
But now, if to these admonitions and in
structions, which we receive from our senses,
from an experience of the state of human life ;
if to these we add the lights of religion, those
great truths which the Son of God has taught
us ; it will be then as much past all doubt,
that there is but one happiness for man, as that
there is but one God.
For since religion teaches us, that our souls
are immortal, that piety and devotion will
carry them to an eterna-l enjoyment of God ;
and that carnal, worldly tempers will sink
them into an everlasting misery with damned
spirits ; what gross nonsense and stupidity is
it, to give the name of joy or happiness to any
thing but that, which carries us to this joy
and happiness in God ?
Was all to dye with our bodies, there might
be some pretence for those different sorts of
happiness, that are now so much talked of:
but since our all begins at the death of our bo
dies ; since all men are to be immortal either
in misery or happiness, in a world entirely dif
ferent from this ; since they are all hastening
hence at all uncertainties, as fast as death can
cut them down ; some in sickness, some in
health, some sleeping, some 'waking, some at
midnight
to a Devout and Holy Life 213
midnight^ others at cock-croivitig, and all at
hours that they know not of; is it not cer
tain, that no man can exceed another in joy
and happiness, but so far as he exceeds him in
those virtues, which lit him for a happy
death ?
Cognatus is a sober, regular Clergyman, of
good repute in the world, and well esteemed
in his parish. All his parishioners say he is an
honest man, and very notable at making a bar
gain. The farmers listen to him with great
attention, when he talks of the properest
time of selling corn.
He has been for twenty years a diligent ob
server of markets, and has raised a considera
ble fortune by good management.
Cognatus is very orthodox, and full of esteem
for our English Liturgy ; anti if he has not
prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, 'tis because
his Predecessor had not used the parish to any
such custom.
As he cannot serve both his livings himself,
so he makes it matter of conscience to keep a
sober curate upon one of them, whom he hires
to take care of all the souls in the parish, at as
cheap a rate as a sober man can be procured.
Cognatus has been very prosperous all his
time ; but still he has had the uneasiness and
vexations that they have, who are deep in
worldly business. Taxes, losses, crosses, bad
mortgages, bad tenants, and the hardness of
the times, are frequent subjects of his conver
sation
214 ^ Serious CALL
sation ; and a good or a bad season has a great
effect upon his spirits.
Cognatus has no other end in growing rich,
but that he may leave a considerable fortune
to a Niece, whom he has politely educated in
expensive finery, by what he has sav'd out
of the tithes of two livings.
The neighbours look upon Cognatus as an
happy clergyman, because they see him (asv
they call it) in good circumstances ; and some
of them intend to dedicate their own sons to
the Church, because they see how well it has
succeeded with Cognatus, whose father was but
an ordinary man.
But now, if Cognatus, when he first enter 'd
into holy orders, had perceived how absurd a
thing it is to grow rich by the Gospel ; if he
had proposed to himself the example of some
primitive father ; if he had had the piety of
the great St. Austin in his eye, who durst not
enrich any of his relations out of the revenue
of the Church : if instead of twenty years' care
to lay up treasures upon earth, he had distri
buted the income of every year in the most
Christian acts of charity and compassion.
If instead of tempting his Niece to be
proud, and providing her with such orna
ments, as the Apostle forbids, he had cloathed,
comforted, and assisted numbers of widows,
orphans, and distressed, who were all to appear
for him at the last day.
If instead of the cares and anxieties of bad
bonds, troublesome mortgages, and /'// bargains,
he
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 1 5
he had had the constant comfort of knowing,
that his treasure was securely laid up, where
neither moth corrupteth, nor thieves break
through and steal : Could it with any reason
be said, that he had mistaken the spirit and
dignity of his order, or lessen 'd any of that
happiness, which is to be found in his sacred
employment ?
If instead of rejoycing in the happiness of
a second living, he had thought it as unbe
coming the office of a clergyman to traffick
for gain in holy things, as to open a shop.
If he had thought it better to recommend
some honest labour to his Niece, than to sup
port her in idleness by the labours of a curate ;
better that she should wantjirie cloaths, and a
rich husband, than that cures of souls should
be farm'd about, and brother clergymen not
suffered to live by those altars, at which they
serve. If this had been the spirit of Cognatus,
could it with any reason be said, that these
rules of religion, this strictness of piety, had
robb'd Cognatus of any real happiness ? Could
it be said, that a life thus govern'd by the spi
rit of the Gospel, must be dull and melancholy,
if compared to that of raising a fortune for a
Niece ?
Now as this cannot be said in the present
case, so in every other kind of life, if you en
ter into the particulars of it, you will find,
that however easy and prosperous it may seem,
yet you cannot add piety to any part of it,
with-
2 1 6 A Serious CALL
without adding so much of a better joy and
happiness to it.
Look now at that condition of life, which
draws the envy of all eyes.
Negotius is a temperate, honest man. He
served his time under a master of great trade,
but has by his own management made it a
more considerable business than ever it was be
fore. For thirty years last past, he has wrote
fifty or sixty letters in a week, and is busy in
corresponding with all parts of Europe. The
general good of trade seems to Negotius to be
the general good of life ; whomsoever he ad
mires, whatever he commends or condemns
either in Church or State, is admired, com
mended, or condemn'd, with some regard to
trade.
As money is continually pouring in upon
him, so he often lets it go in various kinds of
expence and generosity, and sometimes in
ways of charity.
Negotius is always ready to join in any pub-
lick contribution : If a purse is making at any
place where he happens to be, whether it be
to buy a plate for a horse-race, or to redeem a
prisoner out of jayl, you are always sure of
having something from him.
He has given a fine ring of bells to a
Church in the country ; and there is much ex
pectation, that he will some time or other
make a more beautiful front to the market-
house^ than has yet been seen in any place.
For
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 1 7
For it is the generous spirit of Negoliits to do
nothing in a mean way.
If you ask what it is, that has secur'd Nc-
gotius from all scandalous vices, it is the same
thing that has kept him from all strictness of
devotion, it is his great business. He has al
ways had too many important things in his
head, his thoughts have been too much em
ploy 'd, to suffer him to fall either into any
courses of rainy, or to feel the necessity of an
inward, solid piety.
For this reason he hears of the pleasures of
debauchery, and the pleasures of piety, with
the same indifferency ; and has no more desire
of living in the one than in the other, be
cause neither of them consist with that turn of
mind, and multiplicity of business, which are
his happiness.
If Negotius was ask'd, What it is which he
drives at in life ? he would be as much at a
loss for an answer, as if he was ask'd, what
any other person is thinking of. For tho' he
always seems to himself to know what he is
doing, and has many things in his head,
which are the motives of his actions ; yet he
cannot tell you of any one general end of life,
that he has chosen with deliberation, as being
truly worthy of all his labour and pains.
He has several confus'd notions in his head,
which have been a long time there ; such as
these, inz. That it is something great to have
more business than other people, to have more
dealings upon his hands than an hundred of
the
2 1 8 A Serious CALL
the same profession ; to grow continually richer
and richer, and to raise an immense fortune
before he dies. The thing that seems to give
Negottus the greatest life and spirit, and to be
most in his thoughts, is an expectation that
he has, that he shall dye richer than any of
his business ever did.
The generality of people, when they think
of happiness, think upon Negotius, in whose
life every instance of happiness is supposed to
meet ; sober, prudent, rich, prosperous, ge
nerous, and charitable.
Let us now therefore look at this condition
in another, but truer light.
Let it be supposed, that this same Negottus
was a painful, laborious man, every day deep
in variety of affairs ; that he neither drank,
nor debauched ; but was sober and regular in
his business. Let it be supposed, that he grew
old in this course of trading ; and that the
end and design of all this labour, and care, and
application to business, was only this, that he
might dye possessed of more than an hundred
thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many
great coats.
Let it be supposed, that the sober part of
the world say of him when he is dead, that
he was a great and happy man, a thorough
master of business, and had acquir'd an hun
dred thousand pair of boots and spurs when he
dy'd.
Now if this was really the case, I believe it
would be readily granted, that a life of such
busi-
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 1 9
business was as poor and ridiculous, as any
that can be invented. But it would puzzle
any one to shew, that a man that has spent
all his time and thoughts in business and hur
ry, than he might dye, as it is said, worth an
hundred thousand pounds, is any whit wiser
than he, who has taken the same pains to
have as many pair of boots and spurs when he
leaves the world.
For if the temper and state of our souls be
our 'whole state ; if the only end of life be to
dye as free from sin, and as exalted in virtue
as we can ; if naked as we came, so naked
are we to return, and to stand a trial before
Christ, and his holy angels, for everlasting
happiness or misery ; what can it possibly sig
nify, what a man had, or had not, in this
world ? What can it signify what you call
those things which a man has left behind him ;
whether you call them his, or any one's else ;
whether you call them trees a&dj£r/<&, or birds
and feathers ; whether you call them an hun
dred thousand pounds, or an hundred thousand
pairs of boots and spurs ? I say, call them ; for
the things signify no more to him than the
names.
Now it is easy to see the folly of a life thus
spent, to furnish a man with such a number
of boots and spurs. But yet there needs no
better faculty of seeing, no finer under
standing, to see the folly of a life spent in
making a man a possessor of ten toiuns before
he dies.
For
22O A Serious CALL
For if when he has got all his towns, or all
his boots, his soul is to go to its n-ivn place a-
mongst separate spirits, and his body be laid
by in a coffin, till the last trumpet calls him
to judgment ; where the enquiry will be, how
humbly, how devoutly, how purely, how meek
ly, how piously, how charitably, how heavenly
we have spoke, thought, and acted, whilst we
were in the body ; how can we say, that he
who has wore out his life in raising an hun
dred thousand pounds, has acted wiser for him
self, than he who has had the same care to
procure an hundred thousand of any thing
else ?
But farther : Let it now be supposed, that
Negotius, when he first entred into business,
happening to read the Gospel with attention,
and eyes open, found that he had a much
greater business upon his hands, than that to
which he had served an apprenticeship : that
there were things which belong to man, of
much more importance than all that our eyes
can see ; so glorious, as to deserve all our
thoughts ; so dangerous, as to need all our
care ; and so certain, as never to deceive the
faithful labourer.
Let it be supposed, that from reading this
book, he had discovered that his soul was
more to him than his body ; that it was bet
ter to grow in the virtues of the soul, than to
have a large body, or a full purse ; that it was
better to be fit for heaven, than to have va
riety of fine houses upon the earth ; that it
to a Devout and Holy Life 221
was better to secure an everlasting happiness,
than to have plenty of things which he can
not keep ; better to live in habits of humili
ty, piety, devotion, charity, and self-denial,
than to dye unprepar'd for judgment ; better
to be most like our Saviour, or some eminent
saint, than to excel all the tradesmen in the
world, in business and bulk of fortune.
Let it be supposed, that Negotius believing
these things to be true, entirely devoted him
self to God at his first setting out in the
world resolving to pursue his business no far
ther than was consistent with great devotion,
humility, and self-denial ; and for no other
ends, but to provide himself with a sober
subsistance, and to do all the good that he
could, to the souls and bodies of his fellow-
creatures.
Let it therefore be supposed, that instead
of the continual hurry of business, he was fre
quent in his retirements, and a strict observer
of all the hours of prayer ; that instead of rest
less desires after more riches, his soul had been
full of the love of God and heavenly affection,
constantly watching against worldly tempers,
and always aspiring after divine grace; that in
stead of worldly cares and contrivances, he
was busy in fortifying his soul against all ap
proaches of sin ; that instead of costly shew,
and expensive generosity of a splendid life, he
lov'd and exercis'd all instances of humility and
lowliness ; that instead of great treats and full
tables
222 A Serious CALL
tables, his house only furnish'd a sober refresh
ment to those that wanted it.
Let it be suppos'd, that his contentment
kept him free from all kinds of envy. That
his piety made him thankful to God in all
crosses and disappointments. That his charity
kept him from being rich, by a continual
distribution to all objects of compassion.
Now had this been the Christian spirit of
Negotius, can any one say, that he had
lost the true joy and happiness of life, by
thus conforming to the spirit, and living up
to the hopes of the Gospel ?
Can it be said, that a life made exemplary
by such virtues as these,, which keep heaven
always in our sight, which both delight and
exalt the soul here, and prepare it for the pre
sence of God hereafter, must be poor and dull,
if compared to that of heaping up riches,
which can neither stay with us, nor we with
them ?
It would be endless to multiply examples
of this kind, to shew you how little is lost,
and how much is gain'd, by introducing a
strict and exact piety into every condition of
human life.
I shall now therefore leave it to your own
meditation, to carry this way of thinking
farther, hoping that you are enough directed
by what is here said, to convince your self,
that a true and exalted piety is so far from
rendering any life dull and tiresome, that it is
the
to a Devout and Holy Life 223
the only joy and happiness of every condition
in the world.
Imagine to your self some person in a
consumption^ or any other lingring distemper,
that was incurable.
If you was to see such a man wholly intent
upon doing every thing in the spirit of Reli
gion, making the wisest use of all his time,
fortune, and abilities. If he was for carrying
every duty of piety to its greatest height, and
striving to have all the advantage that could
be had from the remainder of his life. If he
avoided all business, but such as was necessary;
if he was averse to all the follies and vanities
of the world, had no taste fovjlnery, and sheiv,
but sought for all his comfort in the hopes
and expectations of Religion ; you would cer
tainly commend his prudence, you would say
that he had taken the right method to make
himself as joyful and happy, as any one can be
in a state of such infirmity.
On the other hand, if you should see the same
person, with trembling hands, short breath,
thin jaws, and holloiv eyes, wholly intent up
on business and bargains, as long as he could
speak. If you should see him pleas'd with
fine deaths, when he could scarce stand to be
dress'd, and laying out his money in horse-:
and dogs, rather than purchase the prayers of
the poor for his soul, which was so soon to
be separated from his body, you would cer
tainly condemn him, as a weak silly man.
p Now
224 ^ Serious CALL
Now as it is easy to see the reasonableness,
the wisdom and happiness of a religious spirit
in a consumptive wan, so if you pursue the
same way of thinking, you will as easily
perceive the same wisdom and happiness of
a pious temper in every other state of
life.
For how soon will every man that is in
health, be in the state of him that is in a
consumption ? How soon will he want all
the same comforts and satisfactions of Reli
gion, which every dying man wants ?
And if it be wise and happy to live piously,
because we have not above a year to live, is
it not being more wise, and making our selves
more happy, because we may have more
years to come ? If one year of piety before
we die, is so desirable, is not more years of
piety much more desirable ?
If a man had Jive jix* d years to live,
he could not possibly think at all, without
intending to make the best use of them all.
When he saw his stay so short in this world,
he must needs think that this was not a world
for him ; and when he saw how near he was
to another world, that was eternal, he must
surely think it very necessary to be very di
ligent in preparing himself for it.
Now as reasonable as piety appears in such
a circumstance of life, it is yet more reason
able in every circumstance of life, to every
thinking man.
For
to a 'Devout and Holy Life 225
For who but a madman, can reckon that he
has jive years certain to come ?
And if it be reasonable and necessary to
deny our worldly tempers, and live wholly
unto God, because we are certain that we are
to die at the end of Jive years ; surely it must
be much more reasonable and necessary, for us
to live in the same spirit, because we have no
certainty, that we shall live Jive weeks.
Again, if we were to add twenty years to
the Jive, which is in all probability more than
will be added to the lives of many people
who are at man's estate ; what a poor thing is
this ! how small a difference is there between
five, and twenty-five years ?
It is said, that a day is with God as a
thousand years, and a thousand years as one
day ; because in regard to his eternity, this
difference is as nothing.
Now as we are all created to be eternal, to
live in an endless succession of ages upon ages,
where thousands, and millions of thousands of
years, will have no proportion to our ever
lasting life in God ; so with regard to this
eternal state, which is our real state, twenty -
five years is as poor a pittance as twenty-five
days.
Now we can never make any true judg
ment of time as it relates to us, without con
sidering the true state of our duration. If we
are temporary beings, then a little time, may
justly be calPd a great deal in relation to us,
but
226 A Serious CALL
but if we are eternal beings, then the diffe
rence of a few years is as nothing.
If we were to suppose three different sorts
of rational beings, all of different, but Jlx'd
duration, one sort that liv'd certainly only a
month, the other a year, and the third an
hundred years.
Now if these beings were to meet together,
and talk about time, they must talk in a very
different language ; half an hour to those that
were to live but a month, must be a very dif
ferent thing, to what it is to those, who are
to live an hundred years.
As therefore time is thus a different thing
with regard to the state of those who enjoy it,
so if we would know what time is with re
gard to our selves, we must consider our
state.
Now since our eternal state, is as certainly
ours, as our present state ; since we are as cer
tainly to live for ever, as we now live at all ;
it is plain, that we cannot judge of the value
of any particular time, as to us, but by com
paring it to that eternal duration for which we
are created.
If you would know, what^w years signify
to a being that was to live an hundred, you
must compare Jive to an hundred, and see
what proportion it bears to it, and then you
will judge right.
So if you would know, what twenty years
signify to a son of j4dam, you must compare
it
to a Devout and Holy Life 227
it, not to a million of ages, but to an eternal
duration, to vhich no number of millions
bears any proportion ; and then you will judge
right, by finding it nothing.
Consider therefore this ; how would you con
demn the folly of a man, that should lose
his share of future glory, for the sake of
being rich, or great, or prais'd, or delighted
in any enjoyment, only one poor day before
he was to die !
But if the time will come, wnen a num
ber of years will seem less to every one,
than a day does now ; what a condemna
tion must it then be, if eternal happiness
should appear to be lost, for something less
than the enjoyment of a day !
Why does a day seem a trifle to us
now ? It is because we have years to set
against it. It is the duration of years, that
makes it appear as nothing.
What a trifle therefore must the years
of a man s age appear, when they are forc'd
to be set against eternity, when there shall
be nothing but eternity to compare them
with !
Now this will be the case of every man,
as soon as he is out of the body ; he will
be forc'd to forget the distinctions of days
and years, and to measure time, not by
the course of the Sun, but by setting it
against eternity.
As
228 A Serious CALL
As the Jix'd stars, by reason of our be
ing plac'd at such distance from them, ap
pear but as so many points ; so when we,
plac'd in eternity, shall look back upon
all time, it will all appear but as a mo
ment.
Then, a luxury, an indulgence, a prosperi
ty, a greatness of jifty years, will seem to
every one that looks back upon it, as the
same poor short enjoyment, as if he had
been snatch 'd away in hisjirst sin,
These few reflections upon time, are only
to shew how poorly they think, how mise
rably they judge, who are less careful of
an eternal state, because they may be at
some years distance from it, than they would
be, if they knew they we're within a few
'weeks of it.
CHAP. XIV
Concerning that part of Devotion 'which relates
to times and hours of Prayer. Of dally
earl y prayer in the morning. Ho<w twe are to
improve our forms of Prayer^ and how to
increase the spirit of devotion
T1JAVING in the foregoing Chapters shewn
J -*• the necessity of a devout spirit, or ha
bit of mind in every part of our common
life
to a Devout and Holy Life 229
life, in the discharge of all our business, in
the use of all the gifts of God : I come now
to consider that part of devotion, which re
lates to times and hours of prayer.
I take it for granted, that every Christian,
that is in health, is up early in the morning ;
for it is much more reasonable to suppose a
person up early, because he is a Christian, than
because he is a labourer, or a tradesman, or a
servant, or has business that wants him.
We naturally conceive some abhorrence of
a man that is in bed, when he should be at
his labour, or in his shop. We can't tell how
to think any thing good of him, who is such
a slave to drowsiness, as to neglect his busi
ness for it.
Let this therefore teach us to conceive, how
odious we must appear in the sight of heaven,
if we are in bed, shut up in sleep and darkness,
when we should be praising God ", and are
such slaves to drowsiness, as to neglect our
devotions for it.
For if he is to be blam'd as a slothful
drone, that rather chuses the lazy indulgence
of sleep, than to perform his proper share of
worldly business ; how much more is he to be
reproach'd, that had rather lie folded up in a
bed, than be raising up his heart to God in acts
of praise and adoration ?
Prayer is the nearest approach to God, and
the highest enjoyment of him, that we are
capable of in this life.
230 A Serious CALL
it is the noblest exercise of the soul, the
most exalted use of our best faculties, and the
highest imitation of the blessed inhabitants
of heaven.
When our hearts are full of God, send
ing up holy desires to the throne of grace,
we are then in our highest state, we are upon
the utmost heights of human greatness ; we
are not before kings and princes, but in the
presence and audience of the Lord of all
the world, and can be no higher, till death is
swallow'd up in glory.
On the other hand, sleep is the poorest,
dullest refreshment of the body, that is so far
from being intended as an enjoyment, that we
are forc'd to receive it either in a state of in
sensibility, or in the folly of dreams.
Sleep is such a dull, stupid state of existence,
that even amongst mere animals, we despise
them most, which are most drowsy.
He therefore that chuses to enlarge the
slothful indulgence of sleep, rather than be
early at his devotions to God ; chuses the
dullest refreshment of the body, before the
highest, noblest employment of the soul ; he
chuses that state, which is a reproach to mere
animals, rather than that exercise, which is
the glory of Angels.
You will perhaps say, tho' you rise late,
yet you are always careful of your devotions
when you are up.
It may be so. But what then ? Is it well
done of you to rise late, because you pray
when
to a Devout and Holy Life 2 3 1
when you are up ? Is it pardonable to waste
great part of the day in bed, because some
time after you say your prayers ?
It is as _ much your duty to rise to pray, as
to pray when you are risen. And if you are
late at your prayers, you offer to God the
prayers of an idle, slothful worshipper, that
rises to prayers, as idle servants rise to their
labour.
Farther, if you fancy that you are careful
of your devotions, when you are up, though
it be your custom to rise late, you deceive
your self; for you cannot perform your devo
tions as you ought. For he that cannot deny
himself this drowsy indulgence, but must pass
away good part of the morning in it, is no
more prepared for prayer when he is up, than
he is prepared for fasting , abstinence^ or any
other self-denial. He may indeed more easily
read over a form of prayer, than he can per
form these duties ; but he is no more disposed
to enter into the true spirit of prayer, than
he is disposed to fasting. For sleep thus in
dulged, gives a softness and idleness to all our
tempers, and makes us unable to relish any
thing, but what suits with an idle state of
mind, and gratifies our natural tempers, as
sleep does. So that a person that is a slave to
this idleness, is in the same temper when he is
up ; and though he is not asleep, yet he is
under the effects of it ; and every thing that
is idle, indulgent^ or sensual, pleases him for
the same reason that sleep pleases him ; and
on
232 A Serious CALL
on the other hand, every thing that requires
care, or trouble , or self-denial, is hateful to
him, for the same reason that he hates to rise.
He that places any happiness in this morning
indulgence, would be glad to have all the day
made happy in the same manner ; though not
with sleep, yet with such enjoyments as gratify
and indulge the body in the same manner as
sleep does ; or at least, with such as come as
near to it as they can. The remembrance of
a warm bed is in his mind all the day, and he
is glad when he is not one of those that sit
starving in a Church.
Now you don't imagine, that such a one can
truly mortify that body which he thus indul
ges ; yet you might as well think this, as that
he can truly perform his devotions ; or live
in such a drowsy state of indulgence, and
yet relish the joys of a spiritual life.
For surely, no one will pretend to say, that
he knows and feels the true happiness of
prayer, who does not think it worth his while
to be early at it.
It is not possible in nature, for an Epicure
to be truly devout; he must renounce this
habit of sensuality, before he can relish the
happiness of devotion.
Now he that turns sleep into an idle indul
gence, does as much to corrupt and disorder
his soul, to make it a slave to bodily appe
tites, and keep it incapable of all devout and
heavenly tempers, as he that turns the ne
cessities
to a Devout and Holy Life 233
cessities of eating, into a course of indul
gence.
A person that eats and drinks too much,
does not feel such effects from it, as those do,
who live in notorious instances of gluttony and
intemperance ; but yet his course of indul
gence, though it be not scandalous in the eyes
of the world, nor such as torments his own
conscience, is a great and constant hindrance
to his improvement in virtue ; it gives him
eye s that see not, and ears that hear not ; it
creates a sensuality in the soul, increases the
power of bodily passions, and makes him in
capable of entring into the true spirit of Re
ligion.
Now this is the case of those who waste
their time in sleep ; it does not disorder their
lives, or wound their consciences, as notorious
acts of intemperance do ; but like any other
more moderate course of indulgence, it silent
ly, and by smaller degrees, wears away the
spirit of Religion, and sinks the soul into a
state of dulness and sensuality.
If you consider devotion only as a time of
so much prayer, you may perhaps perform
it, though you live in this daily indulgence '
But if you consider it as a state of the heart,
as a lively fervour of the soul, that is deeply
affected with a sense of its own misery and in
firmities, and desiring the spirit of God more
than all things in the world, you will find
that the spirit of indulgence, and the spirit
of prayer, cannot subsist together. Mortifi
cation
234 ^ Serious CALL
cation, of all kinds, is the very life and soul
of piety ; but he that has not so small a de
gree of it, as to be able to be early at his
prayers, can have no reason to think that
he has taken up his cross, and is following
Christ.
What conquest has he got over himself?
What right hand has he cut off? What trials
is he prepar'd for ? What sacrifice is he ready
to offer unto God ; who cannot be so cruel to
himself, as to rise to prayer at such time, as
the drudging part of the world are content to
rise to their labour.
Some people will not scruple to tell you,
that they indulge themselves in sleep, because
they have nothing to do ; and that if they
had either business or pleasure to rise to, they
would not lose so much of their time in sleep.
But such people must be told, that they mi
stake the matter ; that they have a great deal
of business to do ; they have a harden 'd heart
to change ; they have the whole spirit of Re
ligion to get. For surely, he that thinks de
votion to be of less moment than business or
pleasure ; or that he has nothing to do, be
cause nothing but his prayers want him, may
be justly said to have the whole spirit of Reli
gion to seek.
You must not therefore consider, how small
a crime it is to rise late, but you must consi
der how great a misery it is to want the spirit
of Religion ; to have a heart not rightly af
fected with prayer ; and to live in such soft-
to a Devout and Holy Life 235
ness and idleness, as makes you incapable of
the most fundamental duties of a truly chri-
stian and spiritual life.
This is the right way of judging of the
crime of wasting great part of your time in
bed.
You must not consider the thing barely in
it self, but what it proceeds from ; what vir
tues it shews to be wanting ; what vices it
naturally strengthens. For every habit of
this kind discovers the state of the soul, and
plainly shews the 'whole turn of your mind.
If our blessed Lord used to pray early be
fore day ; if he spent whole nights in prayer ;
if the devout Anna was day and night in the
temple ; if St. Paul and Silas at midnight
sang praises unto God ; if the primitive Chri
stians, for several hundred years, besides their
hours of prayer in the day-time, met pub-
lickly in the Churches at midnight, to join in
Psalms and Prayers, is it not certain that these
practices shew'd the state of their heart ? Are
they not so many plain proofs of the 'whole
turn of their minds ?
And if you live in a contrary state, wast
ing great part of every day in sleep, thinking
any time soon enough to be at your prayers ;
is it not equally certain, that this practice as
much shews the state of your heart, and the
whole turn of your mind :
So that if this indulgence is your way of
life, you have as much reason to believe your
self destitute of the true spirit of devotion,
as
236 A Serious CALL
as you have, to believe the Apostles and Saints
of the Primitive Church were truly devout.
For as their way of life was a demonstration
of their devotion, so a contrary way of life
is as strong a proof of a want of devotion.
When you read the Scriptures, you see a
Religion that is all life, and spirit, and joy in
God ; that supposes our souls risen from earth
ly desires, and bodily indulgences, to prepare
for another body, another world, and other
enjoyments. You see Christians represented as
temples of the holy Ghost, as children of the
day, as candidates for an eternal crown, as
watchful virgins, that have their lamps al
ways burning, in expectation of the bride
groom. But can he be thought to have this
joy in God, this care of eternity, this watch
ful spirit, who has not zeal enough to rise to
his prayers ?
When you look into the writings and lives
of the first Christians, you see the same spirit
that you see in the Scriptures. All is reality,
life, and action. Watching and prayers, self-
denial and mortification, was the common
business of their lives.
From that time to this, there has been no
person like them, eminent for piety, who has
not, like them, been eminent for self-denial
and mortification. This is the only royal
way that leads to a kingdom.
But how far are you from this way of life,
or rather how contrary to it, if instead of
imitating their austerity and mortification,
you
to a Devout and Holy Life 237
you can't so much as renounce so poor an in
dulgence, as to be able to rise to your pray
ers ? If self-denials and bodily sufferings, if
watchings and fastings, will be marks of glory
at the day of Judgment, where must we hide
our heads, that have slumber'd away our time
in sloth and softness ?
You perhaps now find some pretences, to
excuse your self from that severity of fasting
and self-denial, which the first Christians pra-
ctis'd. You fancy that human nature is grown
weaker, and that the difference of Climates,
may make it not possible for you to observe
their methods of self-denial and austerity, in
these colder countries.
But all this is but pretence ; for the change
is not in the outward state of things, but in
the inward state of our minds. When there
is the same spirit in us, that there was in the
Apostles and primitive Christians, when we
feel the weight of Religion, as they did,
when we have their faith and hope, we shall
take up our cross, and deny our selves, and
live in such methods of mortification as they
did.
Had St. Paul Jiv'd in a cold comitrey, had
he had a constitution made weak with a sickly
stomach, and often Infirmities, he would have
done /as he advis'd Timothy, he would have
mix'd a little wine with his water.
But still he would have liv'd in a state of
self-denial and mortification. He would have
given this same account of himself. / there
fore
238
A Serious CALL
fore so run, not as uncertainly, so fight I, not
as one that beateth the air; but I keep under my
body, and bring it unto subjection, lest that by
any means, 'when I have preached to others, 1
my self should be a cast-aivay.
After all, let it now be suppos'd, that you
imagine there is no necessity for you to be so
sober and vigilant, so fearful of your self, so
watchful over your passions, so apprehensive
of danger, so careful of your salvation, as the
Apostles were. Let it be suppos'd, that you
imagine that you want less self-denial and
mortification, to subdue your bodies, and pu
rify your souls, than they wanted ; that you
need not have your loins girt, and your lamps
burning as they had, will you therefore live
in a quite contrary state ? Will you make
your life as constant a course of softness and
indulgence, as theirs was of strictness and self-
denial.
If therefore, you should think that you
have time sufficient, both for prayer and
other duties, though you rise late ; yet let
me persuade you to rise early, as an instance
of self-denial. It is so small a one, that if
you cannot comply with it, you have no rea
son to think your self capable of any
other.
If I was to desire you, not to study the gra
tifications of your palate, in the niceties of
meats and drinks, I would not insist much
upon the crime of wasting your money in
such a way, though it be a great one ; but I
would
to a Devout and Holy Life 239
would desire you to renounce such a way of
life, because it supports you in such a state of
sensuality and indulgence, as renders you in
capable of relishing the most essential doctrines
of Religion.
For the same reason, I don't insist much
on the crime of wasting so much of your time
in sleep, though it be a great one ; but I de
sire you to renounce this indulgence, because
it gives a softness and idleness to your soul ;
and is so contrary to that lively, zealous,
'watchful, self-denying spirit, which was not
only the spirit of Christ and his Apostles, the
spirit of all the saints and martyrs which have
ever been amongst men, but must be the
spirit of all those who would not sink in the
common corruption of the world.
Here therefore, we must fix our charge
against this practice ; we must blame it, not
as having this or that particular evil, but as a
general habit, that extends it self through our
whole spirit, and supports a state of mind
that is wholly wrong.
It is contrary to piety ; not as accidental
slips and mistakes in life are contrary to it,
but in such a manner, as an ill habit of body
is contrary to health.
On the other hand, if you was to rise ear
ly every morning, as an instance of self-
denial, as a method of renouncing indulgence,
as a means of redeeming your time, and fitting
your spirit for prayer, you would find mighty
advantages from it. This method, though
Q it
240 A Serious CALL
it seems such a small circumstance of life,
would in all probability be a means of great
piety. It would keep it constantly in your
head, that softness and idleness were to be a-
voided, that self-denial was a part of Christia
nity. It would teach you to exercise power
over yourself, and make you able by degrees
to renounce other pleasures and tempers that
war against the soul.
This one rule would teach you to think of
others ; it would dispose your mind to exact
ness, and be very likely to bring the remain
ing part of the day, under rules of prudence
and devotion.
But above all, one certain benefit from this
method you will be sure of having, it will
best fit and prepare you for the reception of
the holy Spirit. When you thus begin the
day in the spirit of religion, renouncing sleep,
because you are to renounce softness, and re
deem your time ; this disposition, as it puts
your heart into a good state, so it will procure
the assistance of the holy Spirit ; what is so
planted and watered, will certainly have an
increase from God. You will then speak from
your heart, your soul will be awake, your
prayers will refresh you like meat and drink,
you will feel what you say, and begin to know
what saints and holy men have meant, by
fervours of devotion.
He that is thus prepared for prayer, who
rises with these dispositions, is in a very diffe
rent state from him, who has no rules of this
kind
to a Devout and Holy Life 241
kind ; who rises by chance, as he happens to
be weary of his bed, or is able to sleep no
longer. If such a one prays only with his
mouth ; if his heart feels nothing of that
which he says ; if his prayers are only things
of course ; if they are a lifeless form of words,
which he only repeats because they are soon
said, there is nothing to be wondred at in all
this : for such dispositions are the natural ef
fect of such a state of life.
Hoping therefore, that you are now enough
convinced of the necessity of rising early to
your prayers, I shall proceed to lay before you
a method of daily prayer.
I don't take upoi me to prescribe to you
the use of any particular forms of prayer, but
only to shew you the necessity of praying at
such times, and in such a manner.
You will here find some helps, how to fur
nish yourself with such forms of prayer, as
shall be useful to you. And if you are such
a proficient in the spirit of devotion, that
your heart is always ready to pray in its own
language, in this case I press no necessity of
borrow'd forms.
For tho' I think a form of prayer very ne
cessary and expedient for publick worship, yet
if any one can find a better way of raising his
heart unto God in private, than by prepared
forms of prayer, I have nothing to object
against it ; my design being only to assist and
direct such as stand in need of assistance.
Thu*
242 A Serious CALL
Thus much, I believe, is certain, that the
generality of Christians ought to use forms of
prayer, at all the regular times of prayer. It
seems right for every one to begin with a form
of prayer ; and if in the midst of his devoti
ons, he finds his heart ready to break forth in
to new and higher strains of devotion, he
should leave his form for a while, and follow
those fervours of his heart, till it again wants
the assistance of his usual petitions.
This seems to be the true liberty of private
devotion ; it should be under the direction of
some form ; but not so ty'd down to it, but
that it may be free to take such new expressi
ons, as its present fervours happen to furnish
it with ; which sometimes are more affecting,
and carry the soul more powerfully to God,
than any expressions that were ever used be
fore.
All people that have ever made any reflecti
ons upon what passes in their own hearts, must
know that they are mighty changeable in re
gard to devotion. Sometimes our hearts are
so awat&td, have such strong apprehensions of
the divine Presence, are so full of deep com
punction for our sins, that we cannot confess
them in any language, but that of tears.
Sometimes the light of God's countenance
shines so bright upon us, we see so far into the
invisible world, we are so affected with the
wonders of the love and goodness of God, that
our hearts worship and adore in a language
higher
to a Devout and Holy Life 243
higher than that of words, and we feel trans
ports of devotion, which only can be felt.
On the other hand, sometimes we are so
sunk into our bodies, so dull and unaffected
with that which concerns our souls, that our
hearts are as much too low for our prayers ; we
cannot keep pace with our forms of confession,
or feel half of that in our hearts, which we
have in our mouths ; we thank and praise God
with forms of words, but our hearts have little
or no share in them.
It is therefore highly necessary, to provide
against this inconstancy of our hearts, by ha
ving at hand such forms of prayer, as may best
suit us when our hearts are in their best state,
and also be most likely to raise and stir them
up, when they are sunk into dulness. For as
words have a power of affecting our hearts on
all occasions, as the same thing differently ex
pressed has different effects upon our minds ;
so it is reasonable, that we should make this
advantage of language, and provide ourselves
with such forms of expressions, as are most
likely to move and enliven our souls, and fill
them with sentiments suitable to them.
The first thing that you are to do, when
you are upon your knees, is to shut your eyes,
ami with a short silence let your soul place it
self in the presence of God ; that is, you are
to use this, or some other better method, to
separate yourself from all common thoughts,
and make your heart as sensible as you can of
the divine presence.
Now
244
Serious CALL
Now if this recollection of spirit is neces
sary, as who can say it is not ? then how poor
ly must they perform their devotions, who
are always in a hurry ; who begin them in
haste, and hardly allow themselves time to
repeat their very/orm, with any gravity or at
tention ? Theirs is properly saying prayers,
instead of praying.
To proceed ; if you was to use yourself (as
far as you can) to pray always in the same
place ; if you was to reserve that place for de
votion, and not allow yourself to de any thing
common in it ; if you was never to be there
yourself, but in times of devotion ; if any
little room, (or if that cannot be) if any par
ticular part of a room was thus used, this kind
of consecration of it, as a place holy unto God,
would have an effect upon your mind, and
dispose you to such tempers, as would very
much assist your devotion. For by having a
place thus sacred in your room, it would in
some measure resemble a chapel, or house of
God. This would dispose you to be always
in the spirit of religion, when you was there ;
and fill you with 'wise and holy thoughts, when
you was by yourself. Your own apartment
would raise in your mind such sentiments, as
you have, when you stand near an altar ; and
you would be afraid of thinking or doing any
thing that vsasfoo/ish near that place, which is
the place of prayer, and holy intercourse with
God.
When
to a Devout and Holy Life 245
When you begin your petitions, use such
various expressions of the attributes of God,
as may make you most sensible of the great
ness and power of the divine Nature.
Begin therefore in words like these : 0 Be
ing of all beings , Fountain of all light and glory,
gracious Father of men and angels, whose uni
versal Spirit is every where present, giving
life, and light, and joy, to all angels in heaven,
and all creatures upon earth, &c.
For these representations of the divine At
tributes, which shew us in some degree the
majesty and greatness of God, are an excellent
means of raising our hearts into lively acts of
worship and adoration.
What is the reason that most people are so
much affected with this petition in the Burial
Service of our Church : Tet, 0 Lord God most
holy, 0 Lord most mighty, 0 holy and most mer
ciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains
of eternal death ? It is, because the joining to
gether so many great expressions, gives such a
description of the greatness of the Divine Ma
jesty, as naturally affects every sensible mind.
Altho' therefore prayer does not consist in
fine 'words, or study* d expressions ; yet as words
speak to the .soul, as they have a certain power
of raising thoughts in the soul ; so those words
which speak of God in the highest manner,
which moatju/ly express the power and pre
sence of God, which raise thoughts in the soul
most suitable to the greatness and providence
of
246 A Serious CALL
of God, are the most useful, and most edify
ing in our prayers.
When you direct any of your petitions to
our blessed Lord, let be in some expressions
of this kind : 0 Saviour of the world, God of
God, Light of Light ; thou that art the Bright
ness of thy Father's Glory, and the express Image
of his Person ; thou that art the Alpha and
Omega, the Beginning and F,nd of all things ;
thou that hast destroyed the power of the devil,
that hast overcome death ; thou that art entred
into the Holy of Holies, that sittest at the right
hand of the Father, that art high above all
thrones and principalities, that makest interces
sion for all the world ; thou that art the judge
of the quick and dead ; thou that wilt speedily
come down in thy Father's glory, to reward all
men according to their 'works, be thou my light
and my peace, &c.
For such representations, which describe so
many characters of our Saviour's nature and
power, are not only proper acts of adoration,
but will, if they are repeated with any atten
tion, fill our hearts with the highest fervours
of true devotion.
Again, if you ask any particular grace of
our blessed Lord, let it be in some manner
like this :
0 holy Jesus, Son of the most high God, thou
that wast scourged at a pillar, stretched and
nail'd upon a cross, for the sins if the 'world,
unite me to thy cross, ond Jill my soul with thy
holy, humble, and suffering spirit. 0 Fountain
°f
to a Devout and Holy Life 247
of mer^cy, thou that didst save the thief upon
the cross, save me from the guilt of a sinful life ;
thou that didst cast seven devils out of Mary
Magdalene, cast out of my heart all evil thoughts ,
and 'wicked tempers. 0 Giver of life, thou that
didst raise Lazarus from the dead, raise up my
soul from the death and darkness of sin. Thou
that didst give to thy Apostles power over unclean
spirits, give mepoiver over my oewn heart. Thou
that didst appear unto thy disciples when the doors
were shut, do thou appear unto me in the secret
apartment of my heart. Thou that didst cleanse
the lepers, heal the sick, and give sight to the
blind, cleanse my heart, heal the disorders of my
soul, and Jill me with heavenly light.
Now these kind of appeals have a double
advantage ; first, as they are so many proper
acts of our faith, whereby we not only shew
our belief of the miracles of Christ, but turn
them at the same time into so many instances
of worship and adoration.
Secondly, As they strengthen and increase
the faith of our prayers, by presenting to our
minds so many instances of that power and
goodness, which we call upon for our own as
sistance.
For he that appeals to Christ, as casting out
devils, and raising the dead, has then a power
ful motive in his mind to pray earnestly, and
depend faithfully upon his assistance.
Again ; In order to fill your prayers with
excellent strains of devotion, it may be of use
to you to observe this farther rule :
When
248
A Serious CALL
When at any time, either in reaairjg the
Scripture, or any book of Piety, you meet
with a passage, that more than ordinarily af
fects your mind, and seems as it were to give
your heart a new motion towards God, you
should try to turn it into the form of a petiti
on, and then give it a place in your prayers.
By this means, you would be often impro
ving your prayers, and storing yourself with
proper forms of making the desires of your
heart known unto God.
At all the stated hours of prayer, it will be
of great benefit to you, to have something
Jix'd, and something at liberty, in your devo
tions.
You should have somejix'd subject, which
is constantly to be the chief matter of your
prayer at that particular time ; and yet have
liberty to add such other petitions, as your
condition may then require.
For instance ; As the morning is to you the
beginning of a new life ; as God has then
given you a new enjoyment of yourself, and a
fresh entrance into the world, it is highly pro
per, that yourjirst devotions should be a praise
and thanksgiving to God, as for a new crea
tion ; and that you should offer and devote
body and soul, all that you are, and all that
you have, to his service and glory.
Receive therefore every day, as a resurrection
from death, as a new enjoyment of life ; meet
every rising sun with such sentiments of God's
goodness, as if you had seen it, and all things,
to a Devout and Holy Life 249
new created upon your account ; and under the
sense of so great a blessing, let your joyful
heart praise and magnify so good and glorious
a Creator.
Let therefore praise and thanksgiving, and
oblation of yourself unto God, be always the
fixed and certain subject of your Jirst prayers
in the morning ; and then take the liberty of
adding such other devotions, as the accidental
difference of your state, or the accidental diffe
rence of your heart, shall then make most
needful and expedient for you.
For one of the greatest benefits of private
devotion, consists in rightly adapting our pray
ers to these two conditions, the difference of
our state, and the difference of our hearts.
By the difference of our state, is meant the
difference of our external state or. condition, as
of sickness, health, pains, losses, disappoint
ments, troubles, particular mercies or judgments
from God ; all sorts of kindnesses, injuries or
reproaches from other people.
Now as these are great parts of our state of
life, as they make great difference in it, by
continually changing ; so our devotion will be
made doubly beneficial to us, when it watches
to receive and sanctify all these changes of our
state, and turns them all into so many occasi
ons of a more1 particular application to God,
of such thanksgivings, such resignation, such
petitions, as our present state more especially
requires.
And
250 A Serious CALL
And he that makes every change in his
state, a reason of presenting unto God some
particular petitions suitable to that change,
will soon find, that he has taken an excellent
means, not only of praying with fervour, but
of Jiving as he prays.
The next condition, to which we are always
to adapt some part of our prayers, is the diffe
rence of our hearts ; by which is meant the
different state of the tempers of our hearts, as
of love, joy, peace, tranquility ; dulness and dri-
ness of spirit, anxiety, discontent, motions of
envy and ambition, dark and disconsolate thoughts,
resentments, fretfulness, and peevish tempers.
Now as these tempers, through the weak
ness of our nature, will have their succession
more or less, even in pious minds ; so we should
constantly make the present state of our heart,
the reason of some particular application to
God.
If we are in the delightful calm of sweet
and easy passions, of love andyVy in God, we
should then offer the grateful tribute of thanks
giving to God, for the possession of so much
happiness, thankfully owning and acknowledg
ing him as the bountiful Giver of it all.
If on the other hand, we feel ourselves la
den with heavy passions, with dulness of spirit,
anxiety and uneasiness, we must then look up
to God in acts of humility, confessing our un-
worthiness, opening our troubles to him, be
seeching him in his good time to lessen the
weight of our infirmities, and to deliver us
from
to a Devout and Holy Life 251
from such passions as oppose the purity and
perfection of our souls.
Now by thus watching, and attending to
the present state of our hearts, and suiting
some of our petitions exactly to their wants,
we shall not only be well acquainted with the
disorders of our souls, but also be well exer-
cis'd in the method of curing them.
By this prudent and wise application of
our prayers, we shall get all the relief from
them that is possible ; and the very change-
ableness of our hearts, will prove a means of
exercising a greater variety of holy tem
pers.
Now by all that has here been said, you
will easily perceive, that persons careful of
the greatest benefit of prayer, ought to have
a great share in the forming and composing
their own devotions.
As to that part of their prayers, which is
always fix'd to one certain subject, in that
they may use the help of forms composed by
other persons ; but in that part of their pray
ers, which they are always to suit to the pre
sent state of their life, and the present state
of their heart, there they must let the sense
of their own condition help them to such
kinds of petition, thanksgiving, or resignation,
as their present state more especially re
quires.
Happy are they, who have this business
and employment upon their hands !
And
252 A Serious CALL
And now, if people of leisure, whether
men, or women, who are so much at a loss
how to dispose of their time, who are forc'd
into poor contrivances, idle visits, and ridicu
lous diversions, merely to get rid of hours
that hang heavily upon their hands ; if such
were to appoint some certain spaces of their
time, to the study of devotion, searching after
all the means and helps to attain a devout
spirit. If they were to collect the best forms
of devotion, to use themselves to transcribe
the finest passages ok scripture-prayers ; if they
were to collect the devotions, confessions, pe
titions, praises, resignations, and thanksgiv
ings, which are scattered up and down in the
Psalms, and range them under proper heads,
as so much proper fuel for the flame of their
own devotion. If their minds were often
^hus employed, sometimes meditating upon
them, sometimes getting them by heart, and
making them as habitual as their own
thoughts, how fervently would they pray,
who came thus prepar'd to prayer ?
And how much better would it be, to
make this benefit of leisure-time, than to be
dully and idly lost in the poor impertinencies
of a playing, visiting, <wandring life ?
How much better would it be, to be thus
furnish'd with hymns and anthems of the
saints, and teach their souls to ascend to God ;
than to corrupt, bewilder and confound their
hearts, with the wild fancies, the lustful
thoughts of lewd Poets ?
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 253
Now though people of leisure seem called
more particularly to this study of devotion,
yet persons of much business or labour, must
not think themselves excus'd from this, or
some better method of improving their de
votion.
For the greater their business is, the more
need they have of some such method as this,
to prevent its power over their hearts ; to se
cure them from sinking into worldly tempers,
and preserve a sense and taste of heavenly
things in their minds. And a little time re
gularly and constantly employ'd to any one use
or end, will do great things, and produce
mighty effects.
And it is for want of considering devotion
in this light, as something that is to be nurs'd
and cherish'd with care, as something that is
to be made part of our business, that is to be
improv'd with care and contrivance, by art
and method, and a diligent use of the best
helps ; it is for want of considering it in this
light, that so many people are so little bene
fited by it, and live and die strangers to that
spirit of devotion, which by a prudent use of
proper means, they might have enjoy'd in a
high degree.
For though the spirit of devotion is the
gift of God, and not attainable by any mere
power of our own, yet is it mostly given,
and never 'withheld, from those, who by a wise
and diligent use of proper means, prepare
themselves for the reception of it.
And
254 -A Serious CALL
And it is amazing to see, how eagerly men
employ their parts, their sagacity, time, study,
application and exercise ; how all helps are call'd
to their assistance, when any thing is intended
and desir'd in worldly matters ; and how dull,
negligent, and unimprov'd they are, how lit
tle they use their parts, sagacity, and abili
ties, to raise and increase their devotion !
Mundanus is a man of excellent parts, and
clear apprehension. He is well advanced in
age, and has made a great figure in business.
Every part of trade and business that has fal
len in his way, has had some improvement
from him ; and he is always contriving to car
ry every method of doing any thing well, to
its greatest height. Mundanus aims at the
greatest perfection in every thing. The sound
ness and strength of his mind, and his just
way of thinking upon things, makes him in
tent upon removing all imperfections.
He can tell you all the defects and errors in
all the common methods, whether of trade,
building, or improving land, or manufactures.
The clearness and strength of his understand
ing, which he is constantly improving, by con
tinual exercise in these matters, by often di
gesting his thoughts in writing, and trying
every thing every way, has render'd him a
great master of most concerns in human
life.
Thus has Mundanus gone on, increasing his
knowledge and judgment, as fast as his years
came upon him.
The
to a Devout and Holy Life 255
The one only thing which has not fallen un
der his improvement, nor received any benefit
from his judicious mind, is his devotion : This
is just in the same poor state it was, when he
was only six years of age ; and the old man
prays now, in that little form of words, which
his mother us'd to hear him repeat night and
morning.
This Mum/anus, that hardly ever saw the
poorest utensil, or ever took the meanest trifle
into his hand, without considering how it
might be made, or us'd to better advantage,
has gone all his life long praying in the same
manner, as when he was a child', without
ever considering how much better, or oftner
he might pray ; without considering how im-
proveable the spirit of devotion is, how ma
ny helps a wise and reasonable man may call
to his assistance, and how necessary it is, that
our prayers should be enlarg'd, vary'd, and
suited to the particular state and condition of
our lives.
If Mundanus sees a book of devotion, he pas
ses it by, as he does a spelling-book, because
he remembers that he learn'd to pray so many
years ago under his mother, when he learnt to
spell.
Now how poor and pitiable is the conduct
of this man of sense, who has so much judg
ment and understanding in every thing, but
that which is the whole wisdom of man ?
And how miserably do many people, more
or less imitate this conduct?
R All
256 A Serious CALL
All which seems to be owing to a strange
infatuated state of negligence, which keeps
people from considering what devotion is. For
if they did but once proceed so far, as to re
flect about it, or ask themselves any questi
ons concerning it, they would soon see, that
the spirit of devotion was like any other sense
or understanding, that is only to be improv'd
by study, care, application, and the use of such
means and helps, as are necessary to make a
man a proficient in any art, or science.
Classicus is a man of learning, and well
vers'd in all the best authors of antiquity.
He has read them so much, that he has en
ter 'd into their spirit, and can very ingeni
ously imitate the manner of any of them.
All their thoughts are his thoughts, and he
can express himself in their language. He is
so great a friend to this improvement of the
mind, that if he lights of a young scholar,
he never fails to advise h;m concerning his
studies.
Classicus tells his young man, he must not
think that he has done enough, when he has
only learnt languages ; but that he must be
daily conversant with the best authors, read
them again and again, catch their spirit by
living with them, and that there is no other
way of becoming like them, or of making
himself a man of taste and judgment.
How wise might Classicus have been, and
how much good might he have done in
the
to a Devo.ut and Holy Life 257
the world, if he had but thought as justly of
devotion, as he does of /earning ?
He never, indeed, says any thing shocking
or offensive about devotion, because he never
thinks, or talks about it. It suffers nothing
from him, but neglect and disregard.
The two Testaments would not have had
so much as a place amongst his Books, but
that they are both to be had in Greek.
Classicus thinks that he sufficiently shews his
regard for the holy Scripture, when he tells
you, that he has no other Books of piety be
sides them.
It is very well, Classicus, that you prefer
the Bible to all other Books of piety ; he has
no judgment, that is not thus far of your
opinion.
But if you will have no other book of
piety besides the Bible, because it is the best,
How comes it, Classicus, that you don't con
tent your self with one of the best Books
amongst the Greeks and Romans ? How comes
it that you are so greedy and eager after all of
them ? How comes it that you think the
knowledge of one is a necessary help to the
knowledge of the other ? How comes it that
you are so earnest, so laborious, so expensive
of your time and money, to restore broken
periods, and scraps of the ancients ?
How comes it that you read so many Com
mentators upon Cicero, Horace, and Homer,
and not one upon the Gospel ? How comes it
that you love to read a man ? How comes it
that
258 A Serious CALL
that your love of Cicero^ and Ovid, makes you
love to read an author that writes like them ;
and yet your esteem for the Gospel gives you
no desire, nay, prevents your reading such
Books, as breathe the very spirit of the Gos-
pel?
How comes it that you tell your young
scholar^ he must not content himself with
barely understanding his authors, but must
be continually reading them a//, as the only
means of entering into their spirit, and form
ing his own judgment according to them ?
Why then must the Bible lye alone in
your study ? Is not the spirit of the saints,
the piety of the holy followers of Jesus Christ,
as good and necessary a means of entering in
to the spirit and taste of the Gospel, as the
reading of the antients is of entering into the
spirit of antiquity ?
Is the spirit of poetry only to be got by
much reading of Poets and Orators ? And is
not the spirit of devotion to be got in the
same way, by frequent reading the holy
thoughts, and pious strains of devout men ?
Is your young Poet to search after every
line, that may give new wings to his fancy,
or direct his imagination ? And is it not as
reasonable for him, who desires to improve in
the divine life, that is, in the love of heavenly
things, to search after every strain of devo
tion, that may move, kindle, and inflame
the holy ardour of his soul ?
Do
to a foevoiit and Holy Life 259
Do you advise your Orator' to translate the
best Orations, to commit much of them to
memory, to be frequently exercising his talent
in this manner, that habits of thinking and
speaking justly may be form'd in his mind ?
And is there not the same benefit and advan
tage to be made by books of devotion ? Should
not a man use them in the same way, that
habits of devotion, and aspiring to God in
holy thoughts, may be well form'd in his soul ?
Now the reason why Classicus does not think
and judge thus reasonably of devotion, is
owing to his never thinking of it in any other
manner, than as the repeating a. form of words.
It never in his life enter'd into his head, to
think of devotion as a state of the heart, as
an impro<veable talent of the mind, as a temper
that is to grow and increase like our reason
and judgment, and to be form'd in us by such
a regular diligent use of proper means, as are
necessary to form any other wise habit of mind.
And it is for want of this, that he has been
content all his life, with the bare letter of
Prayer, and eagerly bent upon entering into
the spirit of heathen poets and orators.
And it is much to be lamented, that num
bers of scholars are more or less chargeable
with this excessive folly ; so negligent of im
proving their devotion, and so desirous of o-
ther poor accomplishments, as if they thought
it a nobler talent, to be able to write an
epigram in the turn of Martial, than to live,
and
260 A Serious CALL
and think, and pray to God, in the spirit of St.
slits tin.
And yet, to correct this temper, and fill a
man with a quite contrary spirit, there seems
to be no more requir'd, than the bare belief
of the truth of Christianity.
And if you was to ask Mandarins, and
Classicus, or any man of business, or learning,
whether piety is not the highest perfection of
man, or devotion the greatest attainment in
the world, they must both be forced to answer
in the affirmative, or else give up the truth of
the Gospel.
For to set any accomplishment against devo
tion, or to think any thing, or all things in
the world, bears any proportion to its excellen
cy ; is the same absurdity in a Christian, as
it would be in a Philosopher to prefer a meals
meat, to the greatest improvement in know-
ledge.
For as Philosophy professes purely the search
and enquiry after knowledge, so Christianity
supposes, intends, desires and aims at nothing
else, but the raising fallen man to a divine
life, to such habits of holiness, such degrees
of devotion, as may fit him to enter amongst
the holy inhabitants of the kingdom of hea
ven.
He that does not believe this of Christiani
ty, may be reckon'd an infidel ; and he that
believes thus much, has faith enough to give
.him a right judgment of the 'value of things,
to support him in a sound mind, and enable
him
to a Devout and Holy Life 26 1
him to conquer all the temptations which the
world shall lay in his way.
To conclude this Chapter. Devotion is
nothing else, but right apprehensions, and right
affections towards God.
All practices therefore that heighten and
improve our true apprehensions of God, all
ways of life that tend to nourish, raise, and
fix our affections upon him, are to bq reckon'd
so many helps and means to fill us with de
votion.
As Prayer is the proper fuel of this holy
flame, so we must use all our care and contri
vance to give prayer its full power ; as by alms,
self-denial, frequent retirements, and holy rea
dings, composing forms for our selves, or using
the best we can get, adding length of time,
and observing hours of Prayer ; changing, im
proving, and suiting our devotions to the con
dition of our lives, and the state of our
hearts.
Those who have most leisure, seem more
especially call'd to a more eminent observance
of these holy rules of a devout life. And
they who by the necessity of their state,
and not through their own choice, have but
little time to employ thus, must make the
best use of that little they have.
For this is the certain way of making de
votion produce a devout life.
CHAP.
262 A Serious CALL
CHAP. XV
Of chanting , or singing of Psalms in our private
devotions. Of the excellency and benefit of
this kind of devotion. Of the great effects it
hath upon our hearts. Of the means of per
forming it in the best manner
have seen in the foregoing Chapter,
what means and methods you are to use,
to raise and improve your devotion. How
early you are to begin your prayers, and what
is to be the subject of your first devotions in
the morning.
There is one thing still remaining, that you
must be requir'd to observe, not only as fit
and proper to be done, but as such as cannot
be neglected, without great prejudice to your
devotions. And that is, to begin all your
Prayers with a Psalm.
This is so right, is so beneficial to devo
tion, has so much effect upon our hearts, that
it may be insisted upon as a common rule for all
persons.
I don't mean, that you should read over a
Psalm, but that you should chant or sing one
of those Psalms, which we commonly call the
reading Psalms. For singing is as much the
proper use of a Psa/m9 as devout supplication is
the proper use of a form of Prayer. And a
• Psalm
to a Devout and Holy Life 263.
Psalm only read, is very much like a Prayer
that is only looked over.
Now the method of chanting a Psalm, such
as is us'd in the Colleges in the Universities,
and in some Churches, is such as all persons
are capable of. The change of the voice in
thus chanting of a Psalm is so small and na
tural, that every body is able to do it, and
yet sufficient to raise and keep up the glad
ness of our hearts.
You are therefore to consider this chanting
of a Psalm, as a necessary beginning of your
devotions, as something that is to awaken all
that is good and holy within you, that is to call
your spirits to their proper duty, to set you
in your best posture towards heaven, and tune
all the powers of your soul to worship and
adoration.
For there is nothing that so clears a way
for your prayers, nothing that so disperses Jul-
ness of heart, nothing that so purifies the soul
from poor and little passions, nothing that so
opens heaven, or carries your heart so near it,
as these songs of praise.
They create a sense and delight in God,
they awaken holy desires, they teach you how
to ask, and they prevail with God to give.
They kindle an holy flame, they turn your
heart into an altar, your prayers into incense,
and carry them as a sweet-smelling savour to
the throne of Grace.
The difference between singing and reading
a Psalm, will easily be understood, if you
consi-
264 A Serious CALL
consider the difference between reading and
singing a common song that you like. Whilst
you only read it, you only like it, and that
is all ; but as soon as you sing it, then you en
joy it, you feel the delight of it, it has got
hold of you, your passions keep pace with it,
and you feel the same spirit within you, that
there seems to be in the words.
If you was to tell a person that has such
a song, that he need not sing it, that it was
sufficient to peruse it ; he would wonder what
you mean ; and would think you as absurd, as
if you was to tell him, that he should only
look at his food9 to see whether it was good,
but need not eat it : For a song of praise not
sung, is very like any other good thing not
made use of.
You will perhaps say, that singing is a par
ticular talent, that belongs only to particular
people, and that you have neither voice nor
ear to make any musick.
If you had said that singing is a general ta
lent, and that people differ in that as they do
in all other things, you had said something
much truer.
For how vastly do people differ in the ta
lent of thinking, which is not only common
to all men, but seems to be the very essence
of human nature ? How readily do some peo
ple reason upon every thing ? and how hardly
do others reason upon any thing ? How clear
ly do some people discourse upon the most ab
struse
to a Devout and Holy Life 265
strusc matters ? and how confusedly do others
talk upon the plainest subjects ?
Yet no one desires to be excused from
thought, or reason, or discourse, because he has
not the;;e talents as some people have them.
But it is full as just, for a person to think
himself excused from thinking upon God, from
reasoning about his duty to him, or discoursing
about the means of salvation, because he has
not these talents in any fine degree ; this is
full as just, as for a person to think himself
excused from singing the praises of God, be
cause he has not a fine ear, or a musical voice.
For as it is speaking, and not graceful speak
ing, that is a requir'd part of prayer ; as it is
bowing, and not genteel bowing, that is a pro
per part of adoration ; so it is singing, and not
artful fine singing, that is a requir'd way of
praising God.
If a person was to forbear praying, because
he had an odd tone in his voice ; he would have
as good an excuse as he has, that forbears from
singing Psalms, because he has but little ma
nagement of his voice. And as a man's speak
ing his prayers, tho' in an odd tone, may yet
sufficiently answer all the ends of his own de
votion ; so a man's singing of a Psalm, tho'
not in a very musical way, may yet suffici
ently answer all the ends of rejoycing in, and
praising God.
Secondly, This objection might be of some
weight, if you was desired to sing, to enter
tain
266 A Serious CALL
tain other people ; but is not to be admitted
in the present case ; where you are only requi
red to sing the praises of God, as a part of
your own private devotion.
If a person that has a very ill voice, and a
bad way of speaking, was desired to be the
mouth of a congregation, it would be a very
proper excuse for him, to say that he had not
a voice, or a way of speaking that was proper
for prayer. But he would be very absurd, if
for the same reason he should neglect his own
private devotions.
Now this is exactly the case of singing
Psalms ; you may not have the talent of sing
ing, so as to be able to entertain other people,
and therefore it is reasonable to excuse your
self from it ; but if for that reason you should
excuse yourself from this way of praising God,
you would be guilty of a great absurdity :
Because singing is no more requir'd for the
musick that is made by it, than prayer is re
quir'd for the fine words that it contains, but
as it is the natural and proper expression of a
heart rejoycing in God.
Our blessed Saviour and his apostles sung an
hymn ; but it may reasonably be supposed,
that they rather rejoiced in God, than made
fine musick.
Do but so live, that your heart may truly
rejoice in God, that it may feel itself affected
with the praises of God, and then you will
find, that this state of your heart will neither
want a voice, nor ear, to find a tune for a
Psalm
to a Devout and Holy Life 267
Psalm. Every one at some time or other
finds himself able to sing in some degree ;
there are some times and occasions of joy, that
make all people ready to express their sense
of it in some sort of harmony. The joy that
they feel, forces them to let their voice have a
part in it.
He therefore that saith he wants a voice, or
an ear, to sing a Psalm, mistakes the case ;
he wants that spirit that really rejoices in
God ; the dulness is in his heart, and not in
his ear ; and when his heart feels a true joy in
God, when it has a full relish of what is ex
pressed in the Psalms, he will find it very
pleasant, to make the motions of his voice
express the motions of his heart.
Singing indeed, as it is improv'd into an
art, as it signifies the running of the voice
thro' such or such a compass of notes, and
keeping time with a study'd variety of chan
ges, is not natural, nor the effect of any na
tural state of mind ; so in this sense, it is
not common to all people, any more than those
antick and invented motions which make Jin e
dancing, are common to all people.
But singing, as it signifies a motion of the
voice suitable to the motions of the heart,
and the changing of its tone according to the
meaning of the words which we utter, is as
natural and common to all men, as it is to
speak high when they threaten in anger, or to
speak low when they are dfjtttfd&nd ask for a
par Jot',
All
268 A Serious CALL
All men therefore are singers, in the same
manner as all men think, speak, laugh, and
lament. For singing is no more an invention,
than grief or joy are inventions.
Every state of the heart naturally puts the
body into some state that is suitable to it, and
is proper to shew it to other people. If a
man is angry, or disdainful, no one need in
struct him how to express these passions by
the tone of his voice. The state of his heart
disposes him to a proper use of his voice.
If therefore there are but few singers of di
vine songs, if people want to be exhorted to
this part of devotion ; it is because there are
but few, whose hearts are raised to that
height of piety, as to feel any motions of joy
and delight in the praises of God.
Imagine to yourself, that you had been
with Moses when he was led thro' the Red Sea',
that you had seen the waters divide themselves,
and stand on an heap on both sides ; that you
had seen them held up till you had pass'd
thro', then let fall upon your enemies ; do
you think that you should then have wanted
a voice or an ear to have sung with Moses, The
Lord is my strength, and my song, and he is be
come my salvation, &c. ? I know, your own
heart tells you, that all people must have
been singers upon such an occasion. Let this
therefore teach you, that it is the heart that
tunes a voice to sing * the praises of God;
and that if you can't sing these same words
now with joy, it is because you are not so af
fected
to a Devout and Holy Life 269
fected with the salvation of the world by Je
sus Christ, as the Jews were, or you yourself
would have been, with their deliverance at the
Red sea.
That it is the state of the heart that dispo
ses us to rejoyce in any particular kind of sing
ing, may be easily proved from variety of ob
servations upon human nature. An old de
bauchee may, according to the language of the
world, have neither voice nor ear, if you only
sing a Psalm, or a song in praise of virtue to
him ; but yet if in some easy tune you sing
something that celebrates his former debauches,
he will then, tho' he has no teeth in his head,
shew you, that he has both a voice and an ear
to join in such musick. You then awaken his
heart, and he as naturally sings to such words,
as he laughs when he is pleas'd. And this
will be the case in every song that touches the
heart ; if you celebrate the ruling passion of
any man's heart, you put his voice in tune to
join with you.
Thus if you can find a man, whose ruling
temper is devotion, whose heart is full of God,
his voice will rejoice in those songs of praise,
which glorify that God, that is the joy of his
heart, tho' he has neither voice nor ear for
other musick. Would you therefore delight
fully perform this part of devotion, it is not
so necessary to learn a tune, or practise upon
notes, as to prepare your heart ; for, as our
blessed Lord saith, out of the heart proceed
evil thoughts, murders, &c. so it is equally
true
270 A Serious CALL
true, that out of the heart proceed holy joys,
thanksgiving and praise. If you can once say
with David, My heart is jixed, 0 God, my
heart isjixed; it will be very easy and natu
ral to add, as he did, / will sing and give
praise. Sec.
Secondly, Let us now consider another rea
son for this kind of devotion. As singing is
a natural effect of joy in the heart, so it has
also a natural power of rendering the heart
joyful.
The soul and body are so united, that they
have each of them power over c ic another in
their actions. Certain thoughts and senti
ments in the soul, produce such and such mo
tions or actions in the body ; and on the other
hand, certain motions and actions of the bo
dy, have the same power of raising such and
such thoughts and sentiments in the soul. iSo
that as singing is the natural effect of joy in
the mind, so it is as truly a natural cause of
raising joy in the mind.
As devotion of the heart naturally breaks
out into outward acts of prayer, so outward
acts of prayer are natural means of raising the
devotion of the heart.
It is thus in all states and tempers of the
mind ; as the inward state of the mind produ
ces outward actions suitable to it, so those
outward actions have the like power of rai
sing an inward state of mind suitable to
them.
As
to a Devout and Holy Life 27 1
As anger produces angry words, so angry
words increase anger.
So that if we barely consider human na
ture, we shall find, that singing or chanting
the Psalms, is as proper and necessary to raise
our hearts to a delight in God, as prayer is
proper and necessary to excite in us the spirit
of devotion. Every reason for one, is in all
respects as strong a reason for the other.
If therefore you would know the reason
and necessity of singing Psalms, you must
consider the reason and necessity of praising
and rejoicing in God ; because singing of
Psalms is as much the true exercise and sup
port of this spirit of thanksgiving, as prayer
is the true exercise and support of the spirit
of devotion. And you may as well think,
that you can be devout as you ought, with
out the use of prayer, as that you can rejoice
in God as you ought, without the practice of
singing of Psalms. Because this singing is as
much the natural language of praise and thanks
giving, as prayer is the natural language of
devotion.
The union of soul and body is not a mix
ture of their substances, as we see bodies uni
ted and mix'd together, but consists solely in
the mutual power that they have of acting
upon one another.
If two persons were in such a state of de-
pendance upon one another, that neither of
them could act, or move, or think, or feel,
or suffer, or desire any thing, without putting
s the
272 A Serious CALL
the other into the same condition, one might
properly say, that they were in a state of
strict union, although their substances were
not united together.
Now this is the union of the soul and bo
dy ; the substance of the one cannot be mix'd,
or united with the other ; but they are held
together in such a state of union, that all the
actions and sufferings of the one, are at the
same time the actions and sufferings of the other.
The soul has no thought or passion, but the
body is concern'd in it ; the body has no acti
on or motion, but what in some degree affects
the soul.
Now as it is the sole will of God, that is
the reason and cause of all the powers and
effects which you see in the world ; as the Sun
gives light and heat, not because it has any
natural power of so doing ; as it is fix'd in a
certain place, and other bodies moving about
it ; not because it is in the nature of the Sun
to stand still, and in the nature of other bo
dies to move about it ; but merely because it
is the 'will of God, that they should be in
such a state. As the eye is the organ, or in
strument of seeing, not because the skins,
and coats, and humours of the eye, have a
natural power of giving sight : As the ears
are the organs, or instruments of hearing ;
not because the make of the ear has any na
tural power over sounds, but merely because
it is the will of God, that seeing and hearing
should be thus receiv'd : So in like manner it
to a Devout and Holy Life 273
is the sole will of God, and not the nature of
a human soul or body, that is the cause of
this union betwixt the soul and the body.
Now if you rightly apprehend this short
account of the union of the soul and body,
you will see a great deal into the reason and
necessity of all the outward parts of Re
ligion.
This union of our souls and bodies, is the
reason both why we have so little and so
much power over our selves. It is owing to
this union, that we have so little power
over our souls ; for as we cannot prevent
the effects of external objects upon our bo
dies, as we cannot command outward causes,
so we cannot always command the inward
state of our minds ; because, as outward
objects act upon our bodies without our
leave, so our bodies act upon our minds by
the laws of the union of the soul and the
body : And thus you see it is owing to this
union, that we have so little power over our
selves.
On the other hand, it is owing to this
union, that we have so much power over our
selves. For as our souls in a great measure
depend upon our bodies ; and as we have great
power over our bodies, as we can command
our outward actions, and oblige our selves to
such habits of life, as naturally produce ha
bits in the soul ; as we can mortify our bo
dies, and remove our selves from objects that
inrlame
274 A Serious CALL
inflame our passions ; so we have a great power
over the inward state of our souls. Again,
as we are masters of our outward actions ; as
we can force our selves to outward acts of
reading, praying, singing, and the like ; and
as all these bodily actions have an effect upon
the soul, as they naturally tend to form such
and such tempers in our hearts ; so by being
masters of these outward, bodily actions, we
have great power over the inward state of the
heart.
And thus it is owing to this union, that
we have so much power over our selves.
Now from this you may also see the neces
sity and benefit of singing Psalms, and of all
the outward acts of Religion ; for if the body
has so much power over the soul, it is certain
that all such bodily actions as affect the soul,
are of great weight in Religion. Not as if
there was any true worship, or piety in the
actions themselves, but because they are pro
per to raise and support that spirit, which is
the true worship of God.
Though therefore the seat of Religion is in
the heart, yet since our bodies have a power
over our hearts, since outward actions both
proceed from, and enter into the heart, it is
plain, that outward actions have a great power
over that Religion which is seated in the
heart.
We are therefore as well to use outward
helps, as inward meditation, in order to be
get and fix habits of piety in our hearts.
This
to a Devout and Holy Life 275
This doctrine may easily be carry'd too far ;
for by calling in too many outward means of
worship, it may degenerate into superstition :
as on the other hand, some have fallen into
the contrary extreme. For because Religion
is justly plac'd in the heart, some have pur
sued that notion so far, as to renounce vocal
prayer, and other outward acts of worship,
and have resolved all Religion into a quie
tism, or mystic intercourses with God in si
lence.
Now these are two extremes equally preju
dicial to true Religion ; and ought not to be
objected either against internal, or external
worship. As you ought not to say, that I en
courage that quietism, by placing religion in
the heart ; so neither ought you to say, that I
encourage superstition, by shewing the bene
fit of outward acts of worship.
For since we are neither all soul, nor all
body ; seeing none of our actions are either se
parately of the soul, or separately of the bo
dy ; seeing we have no habits but such as are
produced by the actions both of our souls and
bodies ; it is certain, that if we would arrive
at habits of devotion, or delight in God, we
must not only meditate and exercise our souls,
but we must practise and exercise our bodies
to all such outward actions, as are conforma
ble to these inward tempers.
If we would truly prostrate our souls before
God, we must use our bodies to "postures of
lowliness ; if we desire true fervours of devo
tion
276 A Serious CALL
tion, we must make prayer the frequent la
bour of our lips. If we would banish, all
pride and passion from our hearts, we must
force our selves to all outward actions of pati
ence and meekness. If we would feel in
ward motions of joy and delight in God, we
must practise all the outward acts of it, and
make our voices call upon our hearts.
Now therefore, you may plainly see the
reason and necessity of singing of Psalms ; it is
because outward actions are necessary to sup
port inward tempers ; and therefore the out
ward act of joy is necessary to raise and sup
port the inward joy of the mind.
If any people were to leave off prayer, be
cause they seldom find the motions of their
hearts answering the words which they speak,
you would charge them with great absurdity.
You would think it very reasonable, that they
should continue their prayers, and be strict in
observing all times of prayer, as the most
likely means of removing the dulness and in-
devotion of their hearts.
Now this is very much the case as to sing
ing of Psalms; people often sing without
finding any inward joy suitable to the words
which they speak ; therefore they are careless
of it, or wholly neglect it ; not considering,
that they act as absurdly, as he that should
neglect prayer, because his heart was not
enough affected with it. For it is certain,
that this singing is as much the natural means
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 277
of raising motions of joy in the mind, as
prayer is the natural means of raising devo
tion.
I have been the longer upon this head,
because of its great importance to true re
ligion. For there is no state of mind so
holy, so excellent, and so truly perfect, as
that of thankfulness to God ; and conse
quently nothing is of more importance in
Religion, than that which exercises and
improves this habit of mind.
A dull) uneasy ', complaining spirit, which is
sometimes the spirit of those that seem care
ful of Religion, is yet of all tempers the
most contrary to Religion, for it disowns
that God which it pretends to adore. For
he sufficiently disowns God, who does not
adore him as a Being of infinite goodness.
If a man does not believe that all the
world is as God's family, where nothing
happens by chance, but all is guided and
directed by the care and providence of a
Being that is all love and goodness to all
his creatures ; if a man do not believe this
from his heart, he cannot be said truly to
believe in God. And yet he that has this
faith, has faith enough to overcome the
world, and always be thankful to God.
For he that believes that every thing happens
to him for the best, cannot possibly complain
for the want of something that is better.
If therefore you live in murmurings and
complaints, accusing all the accidents of life,
it
278 A Serious CALL
it is not because you are a weak, infirm crea
ture, but it is because you want the first prin
ciple of Religion, a right belief in God. For
as thankfulness is an express acknowledgment
of the goodness of God towards you, so repin-
ings and complaints are as plain accusations
of God's want of goodness towards you.
On the other hand, would you know who
is the greatest Saint in the world ? It is
not he who prays most, or fasts most ; it is
not he who gives most a/ms, or is most
eminent for temperance, chastity or justice ;
but it is he who is always thankful to God,
who "Mills every thing that God willeth, who
receives every thing as an instance of God's
goodness, and has a heart always ready to
praise God for it.
All prayer and devotion, fastings and
repentance, meditation and retirement, all
sacraments and ordinances, are but so many
means to render the soul thus divine, and
conformable to the will of God, and to fill
it with thankfulness and praise for every
thing that comes from God. This is the
perfection of all virtues ; and all virtues that
do not tend to it, or proceed from it, are
but so many false ornaments of a soul not
converted unto God.
You need not therefore now wonder, that
I lay so much stress upon singing a Psalm
at all your devotions, since you see it is to
form your spirit to such joy and thankfulness
to
to a Devout and Holy Life 279
280 A Serious CALL
occasion, but is always in your power, and
may be the exercise of every day. For the
common events of every day are sufficient to
discover and exercise this temper, and may
plainly shew you how far you are govern'd in
all your actions by this thankful spirit.
And for this reason I exhort you to this
method in your devotion, that every day may
be made a day of thanksgiving, and that the
spirit of murmur and discontent may be un
able to enter into the heart, which is so often
employ'd in singing the praises of God.
It may perhaps after all be objected, that
although the great benefit, and excellent
effects of this practice are very apparent, yet
it seems not altogether so fit for private de
votions ; since it can hardly be perform'd
without making our devotions publick to
other people, and seems also liable to the
charge of sounding a trumpet at our prayers.
It is therefore answer'd, First, That great
numbers of People have it in their power to
be as private as they please ; such persons
therefore are excluded from this excuse, which
however it may be so to others, is none to
them. Therefore let such take the benefit of
this excellent devotion.
Secondly, Numbers of people are by the
necessity of their state, as servants, appren
tices, prisoners, and families in small houses,
forc'd to be continually in the presence, or
sight of somebody or other.
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 281
Now are such persons to neglect their
prayers, because they cannot pray without
being seen ? Are they not rather oblig'd to be
more exact in them, that others may not be
witnesses of their neglect, and so corrupted bv
their example ?
Now what is here said of devotion, may
surely be said of this chanting a Psalm, which
is only a part of devotion.
The rule is this ; Don't pray that you may
be seen of men, but if your confinement obli
ges you to be always in the sight of others,
be more afraid of being seen to neglect, than
of being seen to have recourse to prayer.
Thirdly, the short of the matter is this.
Either people can use such privacy in this
practice, as to have no hearers, or they can
not. If they can, then this objection vanishes
as to them : And if they cannot, they should
consider their confinement, and the necessities of
their state, as the confinement of a prison ;
and then they have an excellent pattern to
follow, they may imitate St. Paul and Silas,
who sang praises to God in prison, though we
are expressly told, that the prisoners heard
them. They therefore did not refrain from
this kind of devotion for fear of being heard
by others. If therefore any one is in the
same necessity, either in prison or out of prison,
what can he do better, than to follow this
example ?
I cannot pass by this place of Scripture,
without desiring the pious reader to observe,
how
282 A Serious CALL
how strongly we are here call'd upon to this use
of Psalms, and what a mighty recommendation
of it, the practice of these two great Saints is.
In this their great distress, in prison, in
chains, under the soreness of stripes., in the
horror of night, the divinest, holiest thing
they could do, was to sing praises unto God.
And shall we after this, need any exhorta
tion to this holy practice ? Shall we let the day
pass without such thanksgivings, as they would
not neglect in the night ? Shall a. prison, chains,
and darkness, furnish them with songs of praise,
and shall we have no singings in our closets ?
Farther, let it also be observ'd, that while
these two holy men were thus employ'd in
the most exalted part of devotion, doing that
.on earth, which Angels do in
Heaven, that ti* foundations of
the prison 'were shaken, all the doors were
opened, and every ones hands were loosed.
And shall we now ask for motives to this
divine exercise, when instead of arguments,
we have here such miracles to convince us of
its mighty power with God ?
Could God by a voice from Heaven more
expressly call us to these songs of praise, than
by thus shewing us, how he hears, delivers,
and rewards those that use them ?
But this by the way. I now return to the
objection in hand ; and answer Fourthly, That
the privacy of our prayers is not destroy'd by
our having, but by our seeking witnesses of
them.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 283
If therefore no body hears you but those
you cannot separate your self from, you are as
much in secret, and your Father who seeth in
secret, will as truly reward your secrecy, as if
you was seen by him alone.
Fifthly, Private prayer, as it is oppos'd to
prayer in publick, does not suppose, that no
one is to have any witness of it. For husbands
and wives, brothers and sisters, parents and
children, masters and servants, tutors a.i\dpupi/s,
are to be witnesses to one another of such devo
tion, as may truly and properly be call'd pri
vate. It is far from being a duty to conceal
such devotion from such near relations.
In all these cases therefore, where such re
lations sometimes pray together in private,
and sometimes apart by themselves, the chant
ing of a Psalm can have nothing objected
against it.
Our blessed Lord commands us, when we
fast, to anoint our heads, and wash our faces,
that lue appear not unto men to fast, but unto
our Father 'which is in secret.
But this only means, that we must not
make publick ostentation to the 'world of our
fasting.
For if no one was to fast in private, or could
be said to fast in private, but he that had no
witnesses of it, no one could keep a private
fast, but he that liv'd by himself: For every
family must know who fasts in it. Therefore
the privacy of fasting does not suppose such a
privacy as excludes every body from knowing
it
284 A Serious CALL
it, but such a privacy as does not seek to be
known abroad.
Cornelius the devout Centurion, of whom
the Scripture saith, that he rave
Acts x. 2. 7 V _ j \ r> j i
much) and prayed to Lroa aituay,
saith unto St. Peter, four days ago I was fasting
until this hour.
Now that this fasting was sufficiently^>r/W/^
and acceptable to God, appears from the vision
of an Angel, with which the holy man was
bless'd at that time.
But that it was not so private, as to oe
entirely unknown to others, appears, as from
the relation of it here, so from what is said
in another place, that he caffd two
of his household servants, and a de
vout soldier of them that waited upon him conti
nually. So that Cornelius his fasting was so
far from being unknown to his family, that
the soldiers and they of his household were
made devout themselves, by continually wai
ting upon him, that is, by seeing and parta
king of his good works.
The whole of the matter is this. Great
part of the world can be as private as they
please, therefore let them use this excellent de
votion between God and themselves. .
As therefore the privacy or excellency of
fasting is not destroy 'd by being known to
some particular persons, neither would the
privacy or excellency of your devotions be hurt,
though by chanting a Psalm, you should be
heard by some of your family.
Another
to a Devouf and Holy Life 285
Another great part of the world must and
ought to have witnesses of several of their
devotions ; let them therefore not neglect the
use of a Psalm at such times as it ought to
be known to those with whom they live, that
they do not neglect their prayers. For surely,
there can be no harm in being known to be
singing a Psalm, at such times as it ought to
be known that you are at your prayers.
And if at other times, you desire to be in
such secrecy at your devotions, as to have no
body suspect it, and for that reason forbear
your Psalm ; I have nothing to object against
it : Provided, that at the known hours of
prayer, you never omit this practice.
For who would not be often doing that
in the day, which St. Paul and Silas would not
neglect in the middle of the night ? And if
when you are thus singing, it should come into
your head, how the prison shak'd, and the
doors opend, when St. Paul sang, it would do
your devotion no harm.
Lastly, Seeing our imaginations have great
power over our hearts, and can mightily af
fect us with their representations, it would be
of great use to you, if at the beginning of
your devotions, you was to imagine to your
self some such representations, as might heat
and warm your heart into a temper suitable to
those prayers that you are then about to offer
unto God.
As thus ; before you begin your Psalm of
praise and rejoycing in Clod, make this use
of your imagination. Be
286 A Serious CALL
Be still, and imagine to your self, that you
saw the heavens open, and the glorious Choirs
of Cherubims and Seraphims about the throne
of God. Imagine that you hear the musick
of those Angelick voices that cease not day
and night to sing the glories of him that is,
and was, and is to come.
Help your imagination with such passages
of Scripture as these. Revel, vii. 9. Ibtbeld,
and lo in heaven a great multitude which no man
could number ; of all nations, and kindreds, and
people, and tongues, standing before the throne, and
before the lamb, cloath* d 'with 'white robes, and
palms in their hands. And they cried with a
loud voice, Salvation to our God which si fifth
upon the throne, and unto the lamb. ,
And all the angels stood round about the
throne, and fell before the throne on their faces,
and worshipped God, saying, Amen : Blessing,
and glory, and 'wisdom, and thanksgiving, and ho
nour, and power, and strength, be unto God, for
ever and ever. Amen.
Think upon this till your imagination has
carried you above the clouds, till it has plac'd
you amongst those heavenly beings, and made
you long to bear a part in their eternal musick.
If you will but use your self to this me
thod, and let your imagination dwell upon
such representations as these, you will soon
find it to be an excellent means of raising the
spirit of devotion within you.
Always therefore begin your Psalm, or
Song of praise, with these imaginatioat ; and at
e\ery
to a Devout and Holy Life 287
every verse of it, imagine your self amongst
those heavenly companions, that your voice
is added to theirs, and that Angels join with
you, and you with them ; and that you with
a poor and low voice are singing that on earth,
which they are singing in heaven.
Again, Sometimes imagine that you had
been one of those that joined with our blessed
Saviour when he sung an Hymn. Strive to
imagine to your self, with what majesty he
look'd ; fancy that you had stood close by him
surrounded with his glory. Think how your
heart would have been inflanid, what ecstasies
of joy you would have then felt, when singing
with the Son of God. Think again and
again, with what joy and devotion you would
then have sung, had this been really your hap
py state, and what a punishment you should
have thought it, to have been then silent ;
and let this teach you how to be affected with
Psalms and Hymns of thanksgiving.
Again, Sometimes imagine to your self,
that you saw holy David with his hands upon
his harpy and his eyes fix'd upon heaven,
calling in transport upon all the Creation,
Sun and Moon, light and darkness, day and
night, men and angels, to joyn with his raptu
rous soul in praising the Lord of Heaven.
Dwell upon this imagination, till you
think you are singing with this divine musi
cian, and let such a companion teach you to
exalt your heart unto God in the following
Psalm ; which you may use constantly first
in the morning. Psalm
T
288 A Serious CALL
Psalm cxlv. / w/Y/ magnify thee, 0 God my
king : and I iu ill praise thy name for ever and
ever, &c.
These following Psalms, as the 34th, 96th,
1030!, 1 1 ith, 1 46th, 1 47th, are such as won
derfully set forth the glory of God ; and there
fore you may keep to any one of them at any
particular hour, as you like : Or you may
take the finest parts of any Psalms, and so ad
ding them together, may make them fitter
for your own devotion.
. CHAP. XVI
Recommending devotions at nine o'clock in the mor
ning, called in Scripture, the third hour of the
day. The subject of these prayers, is humility
T AM now come to another hour of prayer,
which in Scripture is called the third hour
of the day ; but according to our way of num
bering the hours, it is called the ninth hour
of the morning.
The devout Christian must at this time look
upon himself as called upon by God to renew
his acts of prayer, and address himself again
to the throne of grace.
There is indeed no express command in
Scripture to repeat our devotions at this hour.
But then it is to be consider'd also, that nei
ther is there any express command to begin
and end the day with prayer. So that if that
be looked upon as a reason for neglecting de
votion
to a Devout and Holy Life 289
votion at this hour, it may as well be urged
as a reason, for neglecting devotion both at
the beginning and end of the day.
But if the practice of the saints in all ages
of the world, if the customs of the pious
Jew s and primitive Christians be of any force
with us, we have authority enough to persuade
us, to make this hour a constant season of de
votion.
The Scriptures show us how this hour was
consecrated to devotion both by Jews and
Christians : so that if we desire to number our
selves amongst those whose hearts were devo
ted unto God, we must not let this hour pass,
without presenting us to him in some solem
nities of devotion. And besides this autho
rity for this practice, the reasonableness of it
is sufficient to invite us to the observance of
it.
For if you was up at a good time in the
morning, your first devotions will have been
at proper distance from this hour ; you will
have been long enough at other business, to
make it proper for you to return to this great
est of all business, the raising your soul and
affections unto God.
But if you have risen so late, as to be hard
ly able to begin your first devotions at this
hour, which is proper for your second, you
may thence learn, that the indulging yourself
in the morning sleep is no small matter ; since
it sets you so far back in your devotions, and
robs
290 A Serious CALL
robs you of those graces and blessings, which
are obtained by frequent prayers.
For if prayer has power with God, if it loo
ses the bands of sin, if it purifies the soul, re
forms our hearts, and draws down the aids of
divine grace ; how can that be reckon'd a
small matter, which robs us of an hour of
prayer.
Imagine yourself some where placed in the
air, as a spectator of all that passes in the
world ; and that you saw in one view, the de
votions which all Christian people offer unto
God every day. Imagine, that you saw some
piously dividing the day and mght, as the pri
mitive Christians did, and constant at all hours
of devotion, singing Psalms, and calling upon
God, at all those times, that Saints and Mar
tyrs received their gifts and graces from God.
Imagine that you saw others living with
out any rules, as to times and frequency of
prayer, and only at their devotions sooner or
later, as sleep and laziness happens to permit
them.
Now if you was to see this, as God sees it,
how do you suppose you should be affected
with this sight ? What judgment do you ima
gine, you should pass upon these different
sorts of people ? Could you think, that those
who were thus exact in their rules of devotion,
got nothing by their exactness ? Could you
think, that their prayers were received just in
the same manner, and procured them no more
blessings
to a Devout and Holy Life 29 1
blessings, than theirs do, who prefer laziness
and indulgence to times and rules of devotion ?
Could you take the one to be as true ser
vants of God, as the other ? Could you ima
gine, that those who were thus different in
their Rves, would find no difference in their
states after death ? Could you think it a mat
ter of indifferency, to which of these people
you were most like ?
If not, let it be now your care to join your
self to that number of devout people, to that
society of saints, amongst whom you desire
to be found, when you leave the world.
And altho' the bare number and repetition
of our prayers is of little value, yet since
prayer rightly and attentively performed, is
the most natural means of amending and puri
fying our hearts ; since importunity and fre
quency in prayer is as much pressed upon us by
Scripture, as prayer itself; we may be sure,
that when we are frequent and importunate
in our prayers, we are taking the best means of
obtaining the highest benefits of a devout
life.
And on the other hand, they who through
negligence, laziness, or any other indulgence,
render themselves either unable, or uninclin'd
to observe rules and hours of devotion, we
may be sure, that they deprive themselves of
those graces and blessings, which an exact and
fervent devotion procures from God.
Now as this frequency of prayer is founded
in the doctrines of Scripture, and recommend
ed
29 2 A Serious CALL
ed to us by the practice of the true worship
pers of God ; so we ought not to think our
selves excused from it, but where we can shew,
that we are spending our time in such business,
as is more acceptable to God, than these re
turns of prayer.
Least of all must we imagine, that dulness,
negligence. Indulgence, or diversions, can be any
pardonable excuses, for our not observing an
exact and frequent method of devotion.
If you are of a devout spirit, you will re
joice at these returns of prayer, which keep
your soul in an holy enjoyment of God ;
which change your passions into divine love,
and fill your heart with stronger joys and con
solations, than you can possibly meet with in
any thing else.
And if you are not of a devout spirit, then
you are moreover obliged to this frequency of
prayer, to train and exercise your heart into a
true sense and feeling of devotion.
Now seeing the holy spirit of the Christian
Religion, and the example of the saints of
all ages, calls upon you thus to divide the day
into hours of prayers ; so ft will be highly be
neficial to you, to make a right choice of
those matters, which are to be the subject of
your prayers, and to keep every hour of prayer
appropriated to some particular subject, which
you may alter or enlarge, according as the
state you are in requires.
By this means, you will have an opportu
nity of being large and particular in all the
parts
to a Devout and Holy Life 293
parts of any virtue or grace, which you then
make the subject of your prayers. And by
asking for it in all its parts, and making it
the substance of a 'whole prayer once every
day, you will soon find a mighty change in
your heart; and that you cannot thus con
stantly pray for all the parts of any virtue
every day of your life, and yet live the rest
of the day contrary to it.
If a worldly-minded man was to pray every
day against all the instances of a worldly tem
per ; if he should make a large description of
the temptations of covetousness, and desire
God to assist him to reject them all, and to
disappoint him in all his covetous designs, he
would find his conscience so much awaken d,
that he would be forced either to forsake such
prayers, or to forsake a worldly life.
The same will hold true in any other in
stance. And if we ask, and ha<ue not, 'tis be
cause we ask amiss. Because we ask in cold and
general forms, such as only name the virtues,
without describing their particular parts, such
as are not enough particular to our condition,
and therefore make no change in our hearts.
Whereas when a man enumerates all the parts
of any virtue in his prayers, his conscience is
thereby awaken'd, and he is frighted at seeing
how far short he is of it. And this stirs him
up to an ardor in devotion, when he sees how
much he wants of that virtue which he is
praying for.
I have
294 d- Serious CALL
I have in the last chapter laid before you
the excellency of Braise and thanksgiving, and
recommended that as the subject of your first
devotions in the morning.
And because an humble state of soul is the
very state of Religion, because humility is
the life and soul of piety, the foundation and
support of every virtue and good work, the
best guard and security of all holy affections; I
shall recommend humility to you, as highly
proper to be made the constant subject of your
devotions, at this third hour of the day ;
earnestly desiring you to think no day safe, or
likely to end well, in which you have not thus
early put yourself in this posture of humility,
and called upon God to carry you through
the day in the exercise of a meek and /ovuly
spirit.
This virtue is so essential to the right staff
of our souls, that there is no pretending to a
reasonable or pious life without it. We may
as well think to see without eyes, or live with
out breath, as to live in the spirit of religion,
without the spirit of humility.
And altho' it is thus the soul and essence of
all religious duties, yet is it, generally speak
ing, the least understood, the least regarded,
the least intended, the least desired and sought
after, of all other virtues, amongst all sorts of
Christians.
No people have more occasion to be afraid
of the approachers of pride, than those who
have made some advances in a pious life. For
pride
to a Devout and Holy Life 295
pride can grow as well upon our virtues as our
vices, and steals upon us on all occasions.
Every good thought that we have, every
good action that we do, lays us open to pride,
and exposes to the assaults of vanity and self-
satisfaction.
It is not only the beauty of our persons,
the gifts of fortune, our natural talents, and
the distinetions of life ; but even our devotions
and alms, our fastings and humiliations, expose
us to fresh and strong temptations of this evil
spirit.
And it is for this reason, that I so earnestly
advise every devout person to begin every day
in this exercise of humility, that he may go
on in safety under the protection of this good
guide, and not fall a sacrifice to his own pro
gress in those virtues, which are to save man
kind from destruction.
Humility does not consist in having a 'worse
opinion of ourselves than we deserve, or in a-
basing ourselves lower than we really are. But
as all virtue is founded in truth, so humility
is founded in a true and just sense of our
'weakness, misery, and sin. He that rightly
feels and lives in this sense of his condition,
lives in humility.
The 'weakness of our state appears from our
inability to do any thing, as of ourselves. In
our natural state we are entirely without any
power ; we are indeed active beings, but can
only act by a power, that is every moment lent
us from God.
We
296 A Serious CALL
We have no more power of our own to
move a hand, or stir afoot, than to move the
sun, or stop the clouds.
When we speak a word, we feel no more
power in ourselves to do it, than we feel our
selves able to raise the dead. For we act no
more within our otvn power, or by our own
strength, when we speak a word, or make a
sound, than the Apostles acted within their
own power, or by their own strength, when a
tword from their mouth cast out devils, and
cured diseases.
As it was solely the power of God that en
abled them to speak to such purposes, so it is
solely the power of God that enables us to
speak at all.
We indeed find that we can speak, as we
find that we are alive ; but the actual exercise
of speaking is no more in our own power,
than the actual enjoyment of life.
This is the dependent, helpless poverty of
our state ; which is a great reason for humility.
For since we neither are, nor can do any thing
of ourselves, to be proud of any thing that
we are, or of any thing that we can do, and
to ascribe glory to ourselves for these things,
as our own ornaments, has the guilt both of
stealing and lying. It has the guilt of stealing,
as it gives to ourselves those things which on
ly belong to God. It has the guilt of lying,
as it is the denying the truth of our state, and
pretending to be something that we are not.
Second-
to a Devout and Holy Life 297
Secondly, Another argument for humility, is
founded in the misery of our condition.
Now the misery of our condition appears in
this, that we use these borrow d powers of our
nature, to the torment and "vexation of our
selves, and our fellow-creatures.
God Almighty has entrusted us with the
use of reason, and we use it to the disorder
and corruption of our nature. We reason
ourselves into all kinds of folly and misery,
and make our lives the sport of foolish and
extravagant passions : Seeking after imaginary
happiness in all kinds of shapes, creating to
ourselves a thousand wants, amusing our
hearts with false hopes and fears, using the
world worse than irrational animals, envying,
vexing and tormenting one another with rest
less passions, and unreasonable contentions.
Let any man but look back upon his own
life, and see what use he has made of his rea
son, how little he has consulted it, and how
less he has followed it. What foolish passions,
what vain thoughts, what needless labours,
what extravagant projects, have taken up the
greatest part of his life. How foolish he has
been in his 'words and conversation ; how sel
dom he has done well with judgment, and how
often he has been kept from doing ill by acci
dent ; how seldom he has been able to please
himself, and how often he has displeased others;
how often he has changed his counsels, hated
what he lov'd, and lov'd what he hated ; how
often
298 A Serious CALL
often he has been enrag'd and transported at
trifles, pleas'd and displeas'd with the very
same things, and constantly changing from one
vanity to another. Let a man but take this
view of his own life, and he will see reason
enough to confess, that pride -ivas not made for
man.
Let him but consider, that if the world
knew all that of him, which he knows of
himself ; if they saw what vanity and passions
govern his inside, and what secret tempers sully
and corrupt his best actions, he would have
no more pretence to be honour'd and admir'd
for his goodne ss and wisdom, than a rotten and
distempered body to be lov'd and admir'd for
its beauty and comeliness.
This is so true, and so known to the hearts
of almost all people, that nothing would ap
pear more dreadful to them, than to have
their hearts thus fully discovered to the eyes
of all beholders.
And perhaps there are very few people in
the world, who would not rather chuse to die,
than to have all their secret follies, the errors
of their judgments, the 'vanity of their minds,
the falseness of their pretences, the frequency
of their 'vain and disorderly passions, their un
easiness, hatreds, envies, and vexations, made
known unto the world.
And shall pride be entertained in a heart
thus conscious of its own miserable behaviour ?
Shall a creature in such a condition, that
he could not support himself under the shame
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 299
of being known to the world in his real state ;
shall such a creature, because his shame is on
ly known to God, to holy Angels, and his
own conscience ; shall he, in the sight of God
and holy angels, dare to be vain and proud of
himself ?
Thirdly, If to this we add the shame- and
guilt of sin, we shall find a still greater reason
for humility.
No creature that had liv'd in innocence,
would have thereby got any pretence for self-
honour and esteem ; because as a creature, all
that it is, or has, or does, is from God, and
therefore the honour of all that belongs to it,
is only due to God.
But if a creature that is a sinner, and un
der the displeasure of the great governor of all
the wprld, and deserving nothing from him,
but pains and punishments for the shameful
abuse of his powers ; if such a creature pre
tends to self-glory for any thing that he is, or
does, he can only be said to glory in his
shame ?
Now how monstrous and shameful the nature
of sin is, is sufficiently apparent from that
great attonement that is necessary to cleanse us
from the guilt of it.
Nothing less has been requir'd to take away
the guilt of our sins, than the sufferings and
death of the Son of God. Had he not taken
our nature upon him, our nature had been
for
300 A Serious CALL
for ever separated from God, and incapable
of ever appearing before him.
And is there any room for pride or self-
glory , whilst we are partakers of such a nature
as this?
Have our sins render'd us so abominable
and odious to him that made us, that he
could not so much as receive our prayers, or
admit our repentance, 'till the Son of God
made himself man, and became a suffering
advocate for our whole race ; and can we in
this state pretend to high thoughts of our
selves ? Shall we presume to take delight in
our own worth, who are not worthy so much
as to ask pardon for our sins, without the me
diation and intercession of the Son of God ?
Thus deep is the foundation of humility
laid, in these deplorable circumstances of our
condition ; which shew, that it is as great an
offence against truth, and the reason of things,
for a man in this state of things, to lay claim
to any degrees of glory, as to pretend to the
honour of creating himself. If man will boast
of any thing as his own, he must boast of his
misery and sin ; for there is nothing else but
this, that is his own property.
Turn your eyes towards heaven, and fancy
that you saw what is doing there ; that you
saw cherubims and seraphims, and all the glo
rious inhabitants of that place, all united in
one work ; not seeking glory from one another,
not labouring their own advancement, not con
templating their own perfections, not singing
their
to a Devout and Holy Life 301
their own praises, not valuing themselves,
and despising others, but all employ 'd in one
and the same work, all happy in one and the
same joy ; casting down their crowns j^ev jv J0
before the throne of God, giving
glory, and honour, and power to
him alone.
Then turn your eyes to the fallen world,
and consider how unreasonable and odious it
must be, for such poor worms, such miserable
sinners, to take delight in their own fancy* d
glories, whilst the highest and most glorious
sons of heaven, seek for no other greatness
and honour, but that of ascribing all honour
and greatness, and glory to God alone ?
Pride is only the disorder of the fallen
world, it has no place amongst other beings ;
it can only subsist where ignorance and sen
suality, lies and falshood, lusts and impurity
reign.
Let a man, when he is most delighted with
his ovsnjigure, look upon a crucifix, and con
template our blessed Lord stretch* d out, and
naiFd upon a Cross ; and then let him consi
der, how absurd it must be, for a heart full
of pride and vanity, to pray to God, through
the sufferings of such a meek and crucify' d Sa
viour ?
These are the reflections that you are often
to meditate upon, that you may thereby be
disposed to walk before God and man in such
a spirit of humility, as becomes the weak,
302 A Serious CALL
miserable, sinful state of all that are descended
from fallen Adam.
When you have by such general reflections
as these, convinc'd your mind of the reasona
bleness of humility, you must not content
your self with this, as if you was therefore
humble, because your mind acknowledges the
reasonableness of humility, and declares a-
gainst pride. But you must immediately en
ter your self into the practice of this virtue,
like a young beginner, that has all of it to
learn, that can learn but little at a time, and
with great difficulty. You must consider, that
you have not only this virtue .to learn, but
that you must be content to proceed as a
learner in it all your time, endeavouring after
greater degrees of it, and practising every
day acts of humility, as you every day pra
ctice acts of devotion.
You would not imagine your self to be de
vout, because in your judgment you approv'd
of prayers, and often declar'd your mind in
favour of devotion. Yet how many people
imagine themselves humble enough, for no
other reason, but because they often com
mend humility, and make vehement decla
rations against pride ?
Cacus is a rich man, of good breeding, and
very fine parts. He is fond of- dress, curious
in the smallest matters that can add any orna
ment to his person. He is haughty and im
perious to all his inferiors, is very full of eve
ry thing that he says, or does, and never
ima-
to a Devout and Holy Life 303
imagines it possible for such a judgment as
his to be mistaken. He can bear no contra
diction, and discovers the weakness of your
understanding, as soon as ever you oppose
him. He changes every thing in his house,
his habit, and his equipage, as often as any
thing more elegant comes in his way. Ccecus
would have been very religious, but that he
always thought he was so.
There is nothing so odious to CCECUS as a
proud man ; and the misfortune is, that in
this he is so very quick-sighted, that he dis
covers in almost every body, some strokes of
vanity.
On the other hand, he is exceeding fond of
humble and modest persons. Humility, says
he, is so amiable a quality, that it forces our
esteem where-ever we meet with it. There
is no possibility of despising the meanest per
son that has it, or of esteeming the greatest
man that wants it.
Ccecus no more suspects himself to be
proud, than he suspects his want of sense.
And the reason of it is, because he always
finds himself so in love with humility, and
so enrag'd at pride.
It is very true, CCECUS, you speak sincerely
when you say you love humility, and abhor
pride. You are no hypocrite, you speak the
true sentiments of your mind ; but then take
this along with you, Cacus, that you only
love humility, and hate pride, in other people.
You never once in your life thought of any
u other
304 A Serious CALL
other humility, or of any other pride, than
that which you have seen in other people.
The case of Cacus is a common case; many
people live in all the instances of pride, and
indulge every vanity that can enter into their
minds, and yet never suspect themselves to
be govern'd by pride and vanity, because they
know how much they dislike proud people,
and how mightily they are pleas'd with hu
mility and modesty, where-ever they find
them.
All their speeches in favour of humility,
and all their railings against pride, are look'd
upon as so many true exercises, and effects
of their own humble spirit.
Whereas in truth, these are so far from be
ing proper acts, or proofs of humility, that
they are great arguments of the want of
it.
For the fuller of pride any one is himself,
the more impatient will he be at the smallest
instances of it in other people. And the less
humility any one has in his own mind, the
more will he demand, and be delighted with
it in other people.
You must therefore act by a quite contrary
measure, and reckon your self only so far
humble, as you impose every instance of hu
mility upon your self, and never call for it in
other people. So far an enemy to pride, as
you never spare it in your self, nor ever cen
sure it in other persons.
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 305
Now in order to do this, you need only
consider, that pride and humility signify no
thing to you, but so far as they are your own ;
that they do you neither good nor harm, but
as they are the tempers of your own heart.
The loving therefore of humility is of no
benefit or advantage to you, but so far as you
love to see all your own thoughts, words, and
actions govern'd by it. And the hating of
pride does you no good, is no perfection in
you, but so far as you hate to harbour any
degree of it in your own heart.
Now in order to begin, and set out well in
the practice of humility, you must take it
for granted, that you are proud, that you have
all your life been more or less infected with
this unreasonable temper.
You should believe also, that it is your great
est weakness, that your heart is most subject to
it, that it is so constantly stealing upon you,
that you have reason to watch and suspect its
approaches in all your actions.
For this is what most people, especially new
beginners in a pious life, may with great truth
think of themselves.
For there is no one vice that is more deep
ly rooted in our nature, or that receives such
constant nourishment from almost every thing
that we think or do. There being hardly any
thing in the world that we want or use, or
any action or duty of life, but pride finds some
means or other to take hold of it. So that at
what time soever we begin to offer our selves
to
306
A Serious CALL
to God, we can hardly be surer of any thing,
than that we have a great' deal of pride to re
pent of.
If therefore you find it disagreeable to your
mind to entertain this opinion of your self,
and that you cannot put your self amongst
those that want to be cur'd of pride, you
may be as sure, as if an Angel from heaven
had told you, that you have not only much,
but all your humility to seek.
For you can have no greater sign of a more
confirm'd pride, that when you think that
you are humble enough. He that thinks he
loves God enough, shews himself to be an
entire stranger to that holy passion ; so he
that thinks he has humility enough, shews
that he is not so much as a beginner in the
practice of true humility.
CHAP. XVII
Shewing ho<w difficult the practice of humility is
made, by the general spirit and temper of the
world. Hoiv Christianity requ'ireth us to
live contrary to the 'world.
IC^VERY person, when he first applies him-
Jr* self to the exercise of this virtue of hu
mility, must, as I said before, consider him
self as a learner, that is to learn something
that
to a Devout and Holy Life 307
that is contrary to former tempers and habits
of mind, and which can only be got by daily
and constant practice.
He has not only as much to do, as he that
has some new art, or science to Jearn, but he
has also a great deal to unlearn : He is to for
get, and lay aside his own spirit, which has
been a long while fixing and forming it self;
he must forget, and depart from abundance
of passions and opinions, which the fashion,
and vogue, and spirit of the world, has made
natural to him.
He must lay aside his own spirit ; because
as we are born in sin, so in pride, which is as
natural to us as self-love, and continually
springs from it. And this is one reason why
Christianity is so often represented as a new
birth, and a new spirit.
He must lay aside the opinions and passions
which he has receiv'd from the world, because
the vogue and fashion of the world, by which
we have been carry 'd away, as in a torrent,
before we could pass right judgments of the
value of things, is in many respects contrary
to humility ; so that we must unlearn what the
spirit of the world has taught us, before we
can be govern'd by the spirit of humility.
The Devil is calPd in Scripture the prince
of this world, because he has great power in
it, because many of its rules and principles
are invented by this evil spirit, the father of
all lies and falshood, to separate us from God,
and prevent our return to happiness.
Now
30 8 A Serious CALL
Now according to the spirit and vogue of
this world, whose corrupt air we have all
breath'd, there are many things that pass
for great, and honourable, and most desirable,
which yet are so far from being so, that the
true greatness and honour of our nature con
sists in the not desiring them.
To abound in wealth, to have fine houses,
and rich cloaths, to be attended, with splendor
and equipage, to be beautiful in our persons,
to have titles of dignity, to be above our
fellow-creatures, to command the bows and
obeisance of other people, to be look'd on
with admiration, to overcome our enemies
with power, to subdue all that oppose us, to
set out our selves in as much splendor as we
can, to live highly and magnificently, to eat
and drink, and delight our selves in the most
costly manner, these are the great, the honou
rable, the desirable things, to which the spi
rit of the world turns the eyes of all people.
And many a man is afraid of standing still,
and not engaging in the pursuit of these
things, lest the same world should take him
for a fool.
The history of the Gospel, is chiefly the
history of Christ's conquest over this spirit of
the world. And the number of true Chri
stians, is only the number of those who fol
lowing the Spirit of Christ, have liv'd contra
ry to this spirit of the world.
If any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he
is none of his. Again, Whosoever is born of
God
to a Devout and Holy Life
God, over cometh the 'world. Set your affections on
things above, and not on things on the earth ; for
ye are dead, and your life is hid <with Christ in
God. This is the language of the whole
New Testament. This is the mark of Chri
stianity ; you are to be dead, that is, dead
to the spirit and temper of the world, and
live a new life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.
But notwithstanding the clearness and plain
ness of these doctrines which thus renounce
the world, yet great part of Christians live
and die slaves to the customs, and temper of
the world.
How many people swell with pride and
vanity, for such things as they would not know
how to value at all, but that they are ad-
mir'd in the world ?
Would a man take ten years more drudgery
in business to add two horses more to his coach,
but that he knows, that the world most of
all admires a coach and six ? How fearful are
many people of having their houses poorly
furnish'd, or themselves meanly cloath'd, for
this only reason, lest the world should make
no account of them, and place them amongst
/otv and mean people ?
How often would a man have yielded to the
haughtiness and ill nature of others, and
shewn a submissive temper, but that he dares
not pass for such a poor-spirited man in the
opinion of the world ?
Many a man would often drop a resentment,
and forgive an affront, but that he is afraid,
if
3 1 o A Serious CALL
if he should, the world would not forgive
him?
How many would practise Christian tempe
rance and sobriety in its utmost perfection,
were it not for the censure which the world
passes upon such a life ?
Others have frequent intentions of living
up to the rules of Christian perfection, which
they are frighted from, by considering what
the world would say of them.
Thus do the impressions which we have re-
ceiv'd from living in the world enslave our
minds, that we dare not attempt to be emi
nent in the sight of God, and holy Angels,
for fear of being little in the eyes of the
world.
From this quarter arises the greatest difficul
ty of humility, because it cannot subsist in
any mind, but so far as it is dead to the world,
and has parted with all desires of enjoying its
greatness, and honours. So that in order to
be truly humble, you must unlearn all those
notions which you have been all your life
learning from this corrupt spirit of the
world.
You can make no stand against the assaults
of pride, the meek affections of humility can
have no place in your soul, till you stop the
power of the world over you, and resolve
against a Hind obedience to its laws.
And when you are once advanc'd thus
far, as to be able to stand still in the torrent
of worldly fashions and opinions •, and examine
the
to a Devout arid Holy Life 3 1 1
the worth and 'value of things which are most
admir'd and valued in the world, you have
gone a great way in the gaining of your free
dom, and have laid a good foundation for the
amendment of your heart.
For as great as the power of the world is,
it is all built upon a blind obedience, and we
need only open our eyes, to get quit of its
power.
Ask who you will, learned or unlearned,
every one seems to know and confess, that
the general temper and spirit of the world,
is nothing else but humour, folly, and extra
vagance.
Who will not own, that the wisdom of
Philosophy, the piety of Religion, was always
confin'd to a small number ? And is not this
expressly owning and confessing, thatthe common
spirit and temper of the world, is neither ac
cording to the wisdom of Philosophy, nor the
piety of Religion.
The world therefore seems enough con-
demn'd even by its self, to make it very easy
for a thinking man to be of the same judg
ment.
And therefore I hope you will not think
it a hard saying, that in order to be humble,
you must withdraw your obedience from that
'vulgar spirit which gives laws to Fops and
Coquets, and form your judgments according
to the wisdom of Philosophy, and the piety of
Religion. Who would be afraid of making
such a change as this ?
Again
312 A Serious CALL
Again, To lessen your fear and regard to
the opinion of the world, think how soon the
world will disregard you, and have no more
thought or concern about you, than about the
poorest animal that dy'd in a ditch.
Your friends, if they can, may bury you
with some distinction, and set up a monu
ment to let posterity see that your dust lies
under such a Stone ; and when that is done,
all is done. Your place is fill'd up by another,
the world is just in the same state it was, you
are blotted out of its sight, and as much
forgotten by the world as if you had never
belong'd to it.
Think upon the rich, the great, and the
learned persons, that have made great figures,
and been high in the esteem of the world ;
many of them died in your time, and yet
they are sunk, and lost, and gone, and as
much disregarded by the world, as if they
had been only so many bubbles of water.
Think again, how many poor souls see
heaven lost, and lie now expecting a miserable
eternity, for their service and homage to a
world, that thinks it self every whit as well
without them, and is just as merry as it was,
when they were in it.
Is it therefore worth your while to lose the
smallest degree of virtue, for the sake of plea
sing so bad a master, and so false a friend as
the world is ?
Is it worth your while to bow the knee
to such an idol as this, that so soon will have
neither
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 1 3
neither eyes, nor ears, nor a heart to regard
you ; instead of serving that great, and holy,
and mighty God, that will make all his ser
vants partakers of his own eternity ?
Will you let the fear of a false world, that
has no love for you, keep you from the fear
of that God, who has only created you, that
he may love and bless you to all eternity ?
Lastly, you must consider what behaviour
the profession of Christianity requireth of
you, with regard to the world.
Now this is plainly delivered in these words :
Who gave himself for our sins, that . .
he might deliver us from this present
evil eworld. Christianity therefore implieth a
deliverance from this world ; and he that pro-
fesseth it, professeth to live contrary to every
thing and every temper, that is peculiar to
this evil world.
St. John declareth this opposition to the
world in this manner, They are of the world :
therefore speak they of the 'world,
11 ill l i rrr x J°h. IV. V.
ana the world heareth them. We
are of God. This is the description of the
followers of Christ ; and it is proof enough
that no people are to be reckon'd Christians in
reality, who in their hearts and tempers be
long to this world. We know, saith the same
Apostle, 7 'hat we are of God, and
the whole world lieth in 'wickedness.
Christians therefore can no farther know that
they are of God, than so far as they know
they ai e not of the world ; that is, that they
don't
314 d. Serious CALL
don't live according to the 'ways and spirit of
the world. For all the ways, and maxims,
and politicks, and tempers of the world, lie in
wickedness. And he is only of God, or born
of God in Christ Jesus, who has overcome this
world, that is, who has chose to live by faith,
and govern his actions by the principles of a
wisdom revealed from God by Christ Jesus.
St. Paul takes it for a certainty so well
known to Christians, that they are no longer
to be consider'd as living in this world, that
he thus argues from it, as from an undeniable
principle, concerning the abolishing the rites
of the Jewish law : Wherefore if ye be dead
'with Christ from the rudiments of the 'world,
'why. as though living in the world.
Col. 11. 20. •" ,. ° j° 5 -rj
are ye subject to ordinances : riere
could be no argument in this, but in the
Apostle's taking it for undeniable, that Chri
stians knew, that their profession requir'd them
to have done with all the tempers, and passi
ons of this world, to live as citizens of the
new Jerusalem, and to have their conversati
on in heaven.
Our blessed Lord himself has fully deter-
min'd this point, in these words : They are
not of this <wor/d, as I am not of this 'world.
This is the state of Christianity with regard
to this world. If you are not thus out of,
and contrary to the world, you want the di
stinguishing mark of Christianity ; you don't
belong to Christ, but by being out of the
world as he was out of it.
We
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 1 5
We may deceive our selves, if we please,
with vain and softning comments upon these
words, but they are and will be understood
in their first simplicity and plainness, by every
one that reads them in the same spirit that
our blessed Lord spoke them. And to un
derstand them in any lower, less significant
meaning, is to let carnal wisdom explain away
that doctrine, by which it self was to be
destroyed.
The Christians great conquest over the
world, is all contain'd in the mystery of Christ
upon the Cross. It was there, and from
thence, that he taught all Christians how they
were to come out of, and conquer the world,
and what they were to do in order to be his
Disciples. And all the doctrines, sacraments,
and institutions of the Gospel, are only so
many explications of the meaning, and appli
cations of the benefit of this great mystery.
And the state of Christianity implieth no
thing else but an entire, absolute conformity
to that spirit which Christ shew'd in the my
sterious sacrifice of himself upon the cross.
Every man therefore, is only so far a Christian,
as he partakes of this spirit of Christ. It was
this that made St. Paul so passionately express
himself, God forbid that I should glory, save in
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ : But why
does he glory ? Is it because Christ had suffer 'd
in his stead, and had excus'd him from suffe
ring ? No, by no means. But it was because
his Christian profession had call'd him to the
honour
3i6
A Serious CALL
honour of suffering with Christ, and of dying
to the world under reproach and contempt,
as he had done upon the Cross. For he im
mediately adds, by 'whom the world
is crucified unto me, and I unto the
'world. This you see was the reason of his
glorying in the cross of Christ, because it had
call'd him to a like state of death and cruci
fixion to the world.
Thus was the Cross of Christ, in St. Paul's
days, the glory of Christians ; not as it signi
fied their not being asham'd to own a Master
that was crucified, but as it signified their
glorying in a Religion, which was nothing
else but a doctrine of the Cross, that call'd
them to the same suffering spirit, the same
sacrifice of themselves, the same renunciation
of the world, the same humility and meek
ness, the same patient bearing of injuries, re
proaches, and contempts, and the same dying
to all the greatness, honours and happiness of
this world, which Christ shew'd upon the
Cross.
To have a true idea of Christianity, we
must not consider our blessed Lord as suffering
in our stead, but as our representative, acting
in our name, and with such particular merit,
as to make our joining with him, acceptable
unto God.
He suffered, and was a sacrifice, to make
our sufferings and sacrifice of our selves fit to
be receiv'd by God. And we are to suffer,
to be crucified, to die, and rise with Christ,
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 1 7
or else his crucifixion, death and resurrection
will profit us nothing.
The necessity of this conformity to all that
Christ did, and suffer 'd upon our account, is
very plain from the whole tenor of Scripture.
First, as to his sufferings t this is the only
condition of our being sav'd by them, if wr
suffer with him, we shall also reign 'with him.
Secondly, as to his Crucifixion. _.
Tr . , *,. , , y . Rom. vi. 6.
Knowing this, that our old man is
crucified with him, &c. Here you see Christ
is not crucified in our stead; but unless our
old man be really crucified with him, the
cross of Christ will profit us nothing.
Thirdly, as to the death of Christ, the con
dition is this ; If <we be dead with Christ, ive
believe that we shall also live with him. If
therefore Christ be dead alone, if we are not
dead with him, we are as sure from this Scrip
ture, that we shall not live with him.
, as to the resurrection of Christ, the
Scripture sheweth us how we are to partake
of the benefit of it : If ye be risen with Christ,
seek those things which are above,
where Christ sittfth on the right
hand of God.
Thus you see how plainly the Scripture sets
forth our blessed Lord, as our representative,
acting
3 1 8 A Serious CALL
acting and suffering in our name, binding and
obliging us to conform to all that he did and
suffered for us.
It was for this reason, that the holy Jesus
said of his disciples, and in them of all true
believers, They are not of this 'world, as I am
not of tins world. Because all true believers
conforming to the sufferings, crucifixion, death,
and resurrection of Christ, live no longer after
the spirit and temper of this world, but their
life is hid 'with Christ in God.
This is the state of separation from the
world, to which all orders of Christians are
called. They must so far renounce all world
ly tempers, be so far governed by the things
of another life, as to shew, that they are tru
ly and really crucify' 'd, dead, and risen with
Christ. And it is as necessary for all Christi
ans to conform to this great change of spirit,
to be thus in Christ new creatures, as it was
necessary that Christ should suffer, dye, and
rise again for our salvation.
How high the Christian life is placed above
the ways of this world, is wonderfully describ'd
by St. Paul in these words : Where*
'fore henceforth know we no man af
ter the flesh ; yea, tho* we have known Christ
after the flesh, yet henceforth know we him no
more. Therefore if any man be in Christ, he ts
anew creature: old things are pass' d away ; be
hold, all things are become new.
He that feels the force and spirit of these
words, can hardly bear any human interpreta
tion
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 1 9
tion of them. Henceforth, says he ; that is,
since the death and resurrection of Christ, the
state of Christianity is become so glorious a
state, that we don't even consider Christ him
self as in the flesh upon earth, but as a God
of glory in heaven ; we know and consider
ourselves not as men in the flesh, but as fel
low-members of a new society, that are to
have all our hearts, our tempers, and conver
sation in heaven.
Thus it is that Christianity has placed us
out of, and above the world ; and we fall from
our calling, as soon as we fall into the tem
pers of the world.
Now as it was the spirit of the world that
nailed our blessed Lord to the cross ; so every
man that has the spirit of Christ, that opposes
the world as he did, will certainly be crucify'd
by the world some way or other.
For Christianity still lives in the same
world that Christ did ; and these two will be
utter enemies, till the kingdom of darkness
is entirely at an end.
Had you lived with our Saviour as his true
disciple, you had then been hated as he was ;
and if you now live in his spirit, the world
will be the same enemy to you now, that it
was to him then.
If ye 'were of the world, saith our blessed
Lord, the 'world would 'love 'its own ; , ^
but because ye are not of the world,
but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore
the world hateth you.
x We
320 A Serious CALL
We are apt to lose the true meaning of
these words, by considering them only as an
historical description of something that was the
state of our Saviour and his disciples at that
time. But this is reading the Scripture as a
dead letter ; for they as exactly describe the
state of true Christians at this, and all other
times, to the end of the world.
For as true Christianity is nothing else but
the spirit of Christ, so whether that spirit ap
pear in the person of Christ himself, or his
Apostles, or followers in any age, it is the same
thing ; whoever hath his spirit, will be hated,
despised, and condemned by the world, as he
was.
For the world will always love its own, and
none but its own : this is as certain and un
changeable, as the contrariety betwixt light
and darkness.
When the holy Jesus saith, If the 'world
hate you, he does not add by way of consola
tion, that it may some time or other cease its
hatred, or that it will not always hate them ;
but he only gives this as a reason for their
bearing it, Ton know that it hated me before it
hated you : signifying, that it was he, that
is, his spirit, that by reason of its contrariety
to the world, was then, and always would be,
hated by it.
You will perhaps say, that the world is
now become Christian, at least that part of it
where we live ; and therefore the world is not
to a Devout and Holy Life 321
now to be considered in that state of opposi
tion to Christianity, as when it was heathen.
It is granted, the world now professeth
Christianity. But will any one say, that this
Christian world is of the spirit of Christ ? Are
its general tempers the tempers of Christ ? Are
the passions of sensuality, self-love, pride, co-
vetousness, ambition, and vain-glory, less con
trary^ to the spirit of the Gospel, now they
are amongst Christians, than when they were
amongst heathens ? Or will you say, that the
tempers and passions of the heathen world are
lost and gone ?
Consider, secondly, what you are to mean
by the world. Now this is fully described to
our hands by St. John. All that
• • j jj i i r i jj i * John 11. 16.
is in the world, the lustofthejtesh,
the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, &C.
This is an exact and full description of the
world. Now will you say, that this 'world is
become Christian ? But if all this still subsists,
then the same world is now in being, and the
same enemy to Christianity, that was in St.
John's days.
It was this world that St. John condemned,
as being not of the Father ; whether therefore
it outwardly professeth, or openly persecuteth
Christianity, it is still in the same state of
contrariety to the true spirit and holiness of
the Gospel.
And indeed the world by professing Chri
stianity, is so far from being a less dangerous
enemy than it was before, that it has by its
favours
322 A Serious CALL
favours destroyed more Christians, .than ever
it did by the most violent persecution.
We must therefore be so far from consider
ing the world as in a state of less enmity and
opposition to Christianity, than it was in the
first times of the Gospel, that we must guard
against it as a greater and more dangerous
enemy now, than it was in those times.
It is a greater enemy, because it has great
er power over Christians by its favours, riches,
honours, rewards and protections, than it had
by the fire and fury of its persecutions.
It is a more dangerous enemy, by having
lost its appearance of enmity. Its outward
profession of Christianity makes it no lon
ger consider'd as an enemy, and therefore
the generality of people are easily persuaded
to resign themselves up to be governed and di
rected by it.
How many consciences are kept at quiet,
upon no other foundation, but because they
sin under the authority of the Christian
world ?
How many directions of the Gospel lye by
unregarded ; and how unconcernedly do par
ticular persons read them ; for no other reason,
but because they seem unregarded by the chri-
stian world ?
How many compliances do people make to
the Christian world, without any hesitation,
or remorse ; which if they had been requir'd
of them only by heathens, would have been
refus'd
to a Devout and Holy Life 323
refus'd, as contrary to the holiness of Christia
nity ?
Who could be content with seeing how
contrary his life is to the Gospel, but because
he sees that he lives as the Christian world
doth ?~
Who that reads the Gospel, would want to
be persuaded of the necessity of great self-
denial^ humility, and poverty of spirit, but
that the authority of the world has banish'd
this doctrine of the cross ?
There is nothing therefore, that a good
Christian ought to be more suspicious of, or
more constantly guard against, than the au
thority of the christian world.
And all the passages of Scripture, which
represent the world as contrary to Christianity,
which require our separation from it, as from
a mammon of unrighteousness, a monster of ini
quity, are all to be taken in the same strict
sense, in relation to the present world.
For the change that the world has under
gone, has only alter'd its methods, but not
lessen'd its power of destroying Religion.
Christians had nothing to fear from the hea
then 'world, but the loss of their lives ; but
the world become a friend, makes it difficult
for them to save their Religion.
Whilst pride, sensuality, covetousness and
ambition, had only the authority of the hea
then world, Christians were thereby made more
intent upon the contrary virtues. But when
pride, sensuality, covetousness and ambition,
have
3 '2 4 A Serious CALL
have the authority of the Christian world,
then private Christians are in the utmost dan
ger, not only of being sham'd out of the pra
ctice, but of losing the very notion of the
piety of the Gospel.
There is therefore hardly any possibility of
saving your self from the present world, but
by considering it as the same 'wicked enemy to
all true holiness, as it is represented in the
Scriptures ; and by assuring your self, that it
is as dangerous to conform to its tempers and
passions, now it is Christian, as when it was
heathen.
For only ask your self, Is the piety, the hu
mility, the sobriety of the Christian world, the
piety, the humility, and sobriety of the chri-
stian spirit ? If not, how can you be more
undone by any world, than by conforming to
that which is Christian ?
Need a man do more to make his scul un
fit for the mercy of God, than by being gree
dy and ambitious of honour ? Yet how can a
man renounce this temper, without renoun
cing the spirit and temper of the world, in
which you now live ?
How can a man be made more incapable of
the spirit of Christ, than by a 'wrong value for
money ; and yet how can he be more wrong in
his value of it, than by following the autho
rity of the Christian world ?
Nay, in every order and station of life,
whether of learning or business, either in
Church or State, you cannot act up to the spi
rit
to a Devout and Holy Life 325
rit of Religion, without renouncing the most
general temper and behaviour of those, who
are of the same order and business as your
self.
And though human prudence seems to talk
mighty wisely about the necessity of avoiding
particularities, yet he that dares not be so
weak as to be particular, will be often oblig'd
to avoid the most substantial duties of christi-
an piety.
These reflections will, I hope, help you to
break through those difficulties, and resist
those temptations, which the authority and
fashion of the world hath rais'd against the
practice of Christian humility.
CHAP. XVIII
Shewing how the education 'which men ge
nerally receive in their youth, makes the
doctrines of humility difficult to be practised.
The spirit of a better education, represented
in the character of Paternus
A NOTHERdifficulty in the practice of hu-
• mility, arises from our education. We
are all of us, for the most part corruptly
educated, and then committed to take our
course in a corrupt world ; so that it is no
won-
326 A Serious CALL
wonder, if examples of great piety are so sel
dom seen.
Great part of the world are undone, by be
ing born and bred in families that have no Re
ligion ; where they are made vicious and irre
gular, by being like those with whom they
first liv'd.
But this is not the thing I now mean ; the
education that I here intend, is such as chil
dren generally receive from virtuous and sober
parents, and learned tutors and governors.
Had we continued perfect, as God created
the first man, perhaps the perfection of our
nature had been a sufficient self-instruction for
every one. But as sickness and diseases have
created the necessity of medicines %&& physicians,
so the change and disorder of our rational na
ture, has introduc'd the necessity of education
and tutors.
And as the only end of the physician is, to
restore nature to its own state, so the only end
of education is, to restore our rational nature
to its proper state. Education therefore is to
be consider 'd as reason borrow'd at secondhand,
which is, as far as it can, to supply the loss of
original perfection. And as physick may just
ly be call'd the art of restoring health, so edu
cation should be considered in no other light,
than as the art of recovering to man the use
of his reason.
Now as the instruction of every art or sci
ence is founded upon the discoveries, the wis
dom, experience and maxims of the several
great
to a Devout and Ho/y Life 327
great men that have laboured in it ; so that hu
man wisdom, or right use of our reason, which
young people should be call'd to by their edu
cation, is nothing else but the best experience,
andjinest reasonings of men, that have devo
ted themselves to the study of wisdom, and
the improvement of human nature.
All therefore that great saints, and dying
men, when the fullest of light and conviction,
and after the highest improvement of their
reason, all that they have said of the necessity
of piety, of the excellency of virtue, of their
duty to God, of the emptiness of riches, of
the vanity of the world; all the sentences,
judgments, reasonings, and maxims of the wi
sest of philosophers, when in their highest state
of wisdom, should constitute the common
lessons of instruction for youthful minds.
This is the only way to make the young
and ignorant part of the world, the better for
the 'wisdom and knowledge of the wise and
ancient.
An education which is not wholly intent
upon this, is as much beside the point, as an
art of Physick, that had little or no regard to
the restoration of health.
The youths that attended upon Pythagoras,
Socrates, Plato, and Epictetus, were thus edu
cated. Their every day lessons and instructi
ons were so many lectures upon the nature of
man, his true end, and the right use of his
faculties ; upon the immortality of the soul,
its relation to God, the beauty of virtue, and
its
328 A Serious CALL
its agreableness to the divine nature ; upon the
dignity of reason, the necessity of tempe
rance, fortitude and generosity, and the shame
and folly of indulging our passions.
Now as Christianity has, as it were, new
created the moral and religious world, and set
every thing that is reasonable, wise, holy
and desirable, in its true point of light ; so
one would expect, that the education of youth
should be as much better'd and amended by
Christianity, as the faith and doctrines of Reli
gion are amended by it.
As it has introduced such a new state of
things, and so fully inform'd us of the nature
of man, the ends of his creation, the state
of his condition ; as it has fix'd all our goods
and evils, taught us the means of purifying
our souls, pleasing God, and becoming eter
nally happy ; one might naturally suppose,
that every Christian Country abounded with
schools for the teaching, not only a few questions
and answers of a Catechism , but for the forming,
training and practising youths in such an out
ward course of life, as the highest precepts,
the strictest rules, and the sublimest doctrines
of Christianity require.
An education under Pythagoras, or Socrates,
had no other end, but to teach youth to think,
judge, act, and follow such rules of life, as
Pythagoras and Socrates us'd.
And is it not as reasonable to suppose, that
;i Christian education should have no other
end, but to teach youth how to think, and
judge
to a Devout and Holy Life 329
judge, and act, and live according to the
strictest laws of Christianity ?
At least one would suppose, that in all
Christian schools, the teaching youth to begin
their lives in the spirit of Christianity, in such
severity of behaviour, such abstinence, sobriety,
humility and devotion, as Christianity requires,
should not only be more, but an hundred times
more regarded, than any, or all things else.
For our education should imitate our guar
dian angels, suggest nothing to our minds but
what is wise and holy ; help us to discover and
subdue every vain passion of our hearts, and
every false judgment of our minds.
And it is as sober and reasonable to expect
and require all this benefit of a Christian edu
cation, as to require that physick should
strengthen all that is right in our nature, and
remove that which is sickly and diseased.
But alas, our modern education is not of
this kind.
The first temper that we try to awaken in
children, is pride ; as dangerous a passion as
that of lust. We stir them up to vain thoughts
of themselves, and do every thing we can, to
puff up their minds with a sense of their own
abilities.
Whatever way of life we intend them for,
we apply to thejire and vanity of their minds,
and exhort them to every thing from corrupt
motives : We stir them up to action from
principles of strife and ambition, from glory,
envy, and a desire of distinction, that they
may
330 A Serious CALL
may excel others, and shine in the eyes of the
world.
We repeat and inculcate these motives up
on them, till they think it a part of their
duty to be proud, envious, and vain-glorious
of their own accomplishments.
And when we have taught them to scorn
to be outdone by any, to bear no rival, to
thirst after every instance of applause, to be
content with nothing but the highest distin
ctions ; then we begin to take comfort in
them, and promise the world some mighty
' things from youths of such a glorious spirit.
If children are intended for holy orders, we
set before them some eminent orator, whose
fine preaching has made him the admiration of
the age, and carry'd him through all the dig
nities and preferments of the Church.
We encourage them to have these honours
in their eye, and to expect the reward of their
studies from them.
If the youth is intended for a trade ; we
bid him look at all the rich men of the same
trade, and consider how many now are carry'd
about in their stately coaches, who began in the
same low degree as he now does. We awaken
his ambition, and endeavour to give his mind
a right turn, by often telling him how very
rich such and such a tradesman dy'd.
If he is to be a lawyer, then we set great
Counsellors , Lords Judges, and Chance //or s, be
fore his eyes. We tell him what great fees,
and great applause attend fine pleading. We
exhort
to a Devout and Holy Life 331
exhort him to take fire at these things, to
raise a spirit of emulation in himself, and to
be content with nothing less than the highest
honours of the long Robe.
That this is the nature of our best education,
is too plain to need any proof; and I believe
there are few parents, but would be glad to
see these instructions daily given to their chil
dren.
And after all this, we complain of the ef
fects of pride ; we wonder to see grown men
acted and governed by ambition, envy, scorn,
and a desire of glory ; not considering that
they were all the time of their youth call'd
upon to all their action and industry upon the
same principles.
You teach a child to scorn to be outdone,
to thirst for distinction and applause ; and is it
any wonder that he continues to act all his life
in the same manner ?
Now if a youth is ever to be so far a Chri
stian, as to govern his heart by the doctrines
of humility, I would fain know at what time
he is to begin it ; or if he is ever to begin it
at all, why we train him up in tempers quite
contrary to it ?
How dry and poor must the doctrine of hu
mility sound to a youth, that has been spurr'd
up to all his industry by ambition, envy, emu
lation, and a desire of glory and distinction ?
And if he io not to act by these principles
when he is a man, why do we call him to act
by them in his youth ?
Envy
332 A Serious CALL
Envy is acknowledg'd by all people to be
the most ungenerous, base and wicked passion,
that can enter into the heart of man.
And is this a temper to be instill'd, nou-
rish'd and establish'd in the minds of young
people ?
I know it is said, that it is not envy, but
emulation, that is intended to be awaken'd in
the minds of young men.
But this is vainly said. For when children
are taught to bear no rival, and to scorn to be
outdone by any of their age, they are plainly
and directly taught to be envious. For it is
impossible for any one to have this scorn of
being outdone, and this contention with ri
vals, without burning with envy against all
those that seem to excel him, or get any di
stinction from him. So that what children
are taught, is rank envy, and only cover'd with
a name of a less odious sound.
Secondly, If envy is thus confessedly bad,
and it be only emulation that is endeavour 'd to
be awaken'd in children, surely there ought to
be great care taken, that children may know
the one from the other. That they may abo
minate the one as a great crime, whilst they
give the other admission into their minds.
But if this were to be attempted, thejine-
ness of the distinction betwixt envy and emu
lation, would shew that it was easier to di
vide them in words, than to separate them in
action.
For
to a Devout and Holy Life 333
For emulation, when it is defin'd in its best
manner, is nothing else but a refinement upon
envy, or rather the most plausible part of that
black and venomous passion.
And though it is easy to separate them in
the notion, yet the most acute Philosopher,
that understands the art of distinguishing ever
so well, if he gives himself up to emulation,
will certainly find himself deep in envy.
For envy is not an original temper, but the
natural, necessary, and unavoidable effect of
emulation, or a desire of glory.
So that he who establishes the one in the
minds of people, necessarily fixes the other
there. And there is no other possible way of
destroying envy, but by destroying emulation,
or a desire of glory. For the one always rises
and falls in proportion to the other.
I know it is said in defense of this method
of education, that ambition, and a desire of
glory, are necessary to excite young people to
industry ; and that if we were to press upon
them the doctrines of humility, we should de
ject their minds, and sink them into dulness
and idleness.
But these people who say this, don't consi
der, that this reason, if it has any strength,
is full as strong against pressing the doctrines
of humility upon grown men, lest we should
deject their minds, and sink them into dulness
and idleness.
For who does not see, that middle-aged men
want as much the assistance of pride, ambi
tion
334 ^ Serious CALL
tion, and vain-glory, to spur them up to action
and industry, as children do ? And it is very
certain, that the precepts of humility are
more contrary to the designs of such men, and
more grievous to their minds, when they are
pressed upon them, than they are to the minds
of young persons.
This reason therefore that is given, why
children should not be trained up in the prin
ciples of true humility, is as good a reason
why the same humility should never be re-
quir'd of grown men.
Thirdly -, Let those people, who think that
children would be spoil'd, if they were not
thus educated, consider this.
Could they think, that if any children had
been educated by our blessed Lord, or his ho
ly Apostles, that their minds would have been
sunk into dulness and idleness^ ?
Or could they think, that such children
would not have been train'd up in the pro-
foundest principles of a strict and true humi
lity? Can they say that our blessed Lord, who
was the meekest and humblest man that ever
was on earth, was hinder'd by his humility
from being the greatest example of worthy
and glorious actions, that ever were done by
man?
.Can they say that his Apostles, who liv'd
in the humble spirit of their master, did there
fore cease to be laborious and active instru
ments of doing good to all the world ?
A few
\ to a Devout and Holy Life 335
A few such reflections as these, are suffici
ent to expose all the poor pretences for an edu
cation in pride and ambition.
Paternus liv'd about two hundred years ago ;
he had but one son, whom he educated him
self in his own house. As they were sit
ting together in the Garden, when the child
was ten years old, Paternus thus began to
him.
The little time that you have been in the
world, my child, you have spent wholly
with me ; and my love and tenderness to you,
has made you look upon me as your only
friend and benefactor, and the cause of all the
comfort and pleasure that you enjoy : Your
heart, I know, would be ready to break with
grief, if you thought this was the last day
that 1 should live with you.
But, my child, tho' you now think your
self mighty happy, because you have hold of
my hand, you are now in the hands, and un
der the tender care of a much greater father
and friend than I am, whose love to you is
far greater than mine, and from whom you
receive such blessings as no mortal can give.
That God whom you have seen me daily
worship, whom I daily call upon to bless both
you and me, and all mankind, whose won
drous acts are recorded in those Scriptures
which you constantly read. That God who
created the heavens and the earth, who
brought a flood upon the old world, who sav'd
Noah in the Ark, who was the God of Abra-
Y ham
336
A Serious CALL
ham, Isaac and Jacob, whom Job blessed and
prais'd in the greatest afflictions, who deliver'd
the Israelites out of the hands of the Egypti
ans •, who was the protector of righteous Joseph,
Moses, Joshua, and holy Daniel, who sent so
many Prophets into the world, who sent his
Son Jesus Christ to redeem mankind ; this
God who has done all these great things, who
has created so many millions of men, who
liv'd and died before you was born, with
whom the spirits of good men that are depar
ted this life, now live, whom infinite num
bers of Angels now worship in Heaven ; this
great God who is the creator of worlds, of
angels, and men, is your loving father and
friend, your good creator and nourisher, from
whom and not from me, you receiv'd your
being ten years ago, at the time that I plant
ed that little tender Elm which you there
see.
I my self am not half the age of this
shady Oak, under which we sit ; many of our
fathers have sat under its boughs, we have all
of us call'd it ours in our turn, tho' it stands,
and drops its masters, as it drops its leaves.
You see, my son, this wide and large Fir
mament over our heads, where the Sun and
Moon, and all the Stars appear in their turns.
If you was to be carried up to any of these
bodies at this vast distance from us, you would
still discover others, as much above you, as
the Stars that you see here are above the
Earth. Were you to go up or down, East or
West
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 37
West, North or South, you would find the
same height without any top, and the same
depth without any bottom.
And yet my child, so great is God, that
all these bodies added together, are but as a
grain of sand in his sight. And yet you are
as much the care of this great God and Father
of all 'worlds and all spirits, as if he had no
son but you, or there were no creature for him
to'love and protect but you alone. He num
bers the hairs of your head, watches over
you sleeping and waking, and has preserv'd
you from a thousand dangers, which neither
you, nor I know any thing of.
How poor my power is, and how little I
am able to do for you, you have often seen.
Your late sickness has shewn you how little I
could do for you in that state ; and the fre
quent pains of your head are plain proofs, that
I have no power to remove them.
I can bring you food and medicines, but have
no power to turn them into your relief and
nourishment ; it is God alone that can do this
for you.
Therefore, my child, fear, and worship,
and love God. Your eyes indeed cannot yet
see him, but every thing you see, are so ma
ny marks of his power and presence, and he
is nearer to you, than any thing that you can
see.
Take him for your Lord, and Father, and
Friend, look up unto him as the fountain and
cause of all the good that you have received
through
33 8 A Serious CALL
through my hands, and reverence me only as
the bearer and minister of God's good things
unto you. And he that blessed my father
before I was born, will bless you when I am
dead.
Your youth and little mind is only yet ac
quainted with my family, and therefore you
think there is no happiness out of it.
But, my child, you belong to a greater Fa
mily than mine, you are a young member of
the family of this Almighty Father of all Na
tions, who has created infinite orders of An
gels, and numberless generations of men, to
be fellow - members of one and the same
society in Heaven.
You do well to reverence and obey my
authority, because God has given me power
over you, to bring you up in his fear, and to
do for you, as the holy fathers recorded in
Scripture did for their children, who are now
in rest and peace with God.
I shall in a short time die, and leave you to
God, and your self, and if God forgiveth my
sins, I shall go to his Son Jesus Christ, and
live amongst Patriarchs and Prophets, Saints
and Martyrs, where I shall pray for you, and
hope for your safe arrival at the same place.
Therefore, my child, meditate on these
great things, and your soul will soon grow
great and noble by so meditating upon them.
Let your thoughts often leave thes» gardens,
these Jields and farms, to contemplate upon
God and Heaven, to consider upon Angels,
and
to a Devout and Holy Life 339
and the spirits of good men living in light
and glory.
As you have been us'd to look to me in all
your actions, and have been afraid to do any
thing, unless you first knew my will ; so let
it now be a rule of your life, to look up to
God in all your actions, to do every thing in
his fear, and to abstain from every thing that
is not according to his will.
Bear him always in your mind, teach your
thoughts to reverence him in every place, for
there is no place where he is not.
God keepeth a book of life, wherein all the
actions of all men are written ; your name is
there, my child, and when you die, this book will
be laid open before men and angels, and ac
cording as your actions are there found, you
will either be receiv'd to the happiness of
those holy men who have died before you, or
be turn'd away amongst wicked spirits, that
are never to see God any more.
Never forget this book, my son, for it is
written, it must be open'd, you must see it,
and you must be try'd by it. Strive therefore
to fill it with your good deeds, that the hand
writing of God may not appear against you.
God, my child, is all love, and wisdom, and
goodness ; and every thing that he has made,
and every action that he does, is the effect of
them all. Therefore you cannot please God,
but so far as you strive to walk in love, wis
dom and goodness. As all wisdom, love and
goodness
Serious CALL
goodness proceeds from God, so nothing but
love, wisdom, and goodness can lead to God.
When you love that which God loves, you
act with him, you joyn your self to him ; and
when you love what he dislikes, then you op
pose him, and separate your self from him.
This is the true and the right way ; think
what God loves, and do you love it with all
your heart.
First of all, my child, worship and adore
God, think of him magnificently, speak of
him reverently, magnify his providence,
adore his power, frequent his service, and pray
unto him frequently and constantly.
Next to this, love your neighbour, which
is all mankind, with such tenderness and affe
ction, as you love your self. Think how
God loves all mankind, how merciful he is
to them, how tender he is of them, how
carefully he preserves them, and then strive to
love the world, as God loves it.
God would have all men to be happy,
therefore do you will, and desire the same.
All men are great instances of divine love,
therefore let all men be instances of your
love.
But above all, my son, mark this, never do
any thing through strife, or envy, or emula
tion, or vain-glory. Never do any thing in
order to excell other people, but in order to
please God, and because it is his will, that
you should do every thing in the best man
ner that you can.
For
to a Devout and Holy Life 341
For if it is once a pleasure to you to excell
other people, it will by degrees be a pleasure
to you, to see other people not so good as
your self.
Banish therefore every thought of self-pride
and self-distinction, and accustom your self to
rejoice in all the excellencies and perfections
of your fellow-creatures, and be as glad to
see any of their good actions, as your own.
For as God is as well pleas'd with their well
doings, as with yours, so you ought to desire,
that every thing that is wise, and holy, and
good, may be perform'd in as high a manner
by other people, as by your self.
Let this therefore be your only motive and
spur to all good actions, honest industry, and
business, to do every thing in as perfect and
excellent a manner as you can, for this only
reason, because it is pleasing" to God, who de
sires your perfection, and writes all your actions
in a book. When I am dead, my son, you
will be master of all my estate, which will be
a great deal more, than the necessities of one
family require. Therefore as you are to be
charitable to the souls of men, and wish them
the same happiness with you in heaven, so
be charitable to their bodies, and endeavour
to make them as happy as you upon earth.
As God has created all things for the com
mon good of all men, so let that part of them
which is fallen to your share, be employ'd as
God would have all employ'd, for the com
mon good of all.
Do
342
A Serious CALL
Do good, my son, first of all to those that
most deserve it, but remember to do good to
all. The greatest sinners receive daily instan
ces of God's goodness towards them, he nou
rishes and preserves them, that they may
repent, and return to him ; do you therefore
imitate God, and think no one too bad to
receive your relief and kindness, when you
see that he wants it.
I am teaching you Latin and Greek^ not
that you should desire to be a great Critick,
a line Poet, or an eloquent Orator ; I would
not have your heart feel any of these desires,
for the desire of these accomplishments, is a
vanity of the mind, and the masters of them
are generally vain men. For the desire of any
thing that is not a real good, lessens the appli
cation of the mind after that which is so.
But I teach you these languages, that at
proper times you may look into the history of
past ages, and learn the methods of God's
providence over the world. That reading the
writings of the antient Sages, you may see
how wisdom and virtue have been the praises
of great men of all ages, and fortify your
mind by their wise sayings.
Let truth and plainness therefore be the
only ornament of your language, and study
nothing but how to think of all things as
they deserve, to chuse every thing that is best,
to live according to reason and order, and to
act in every part of your life in conformity to
the will of God.
Study
to a Devout and Holy Life 343
Study how to fill your heart full of the
love of God, and the love of your neighbour,
and then be content to be no deeper a scholar,
no finer a gentleman, than these tempers
will make you. As true Religion is nothing
else but simple Nature govern'd by right rea
son, so it loves and requires great plainness
and simplicity of life. Therefore avoid all
superfluous shews of finery and equipage, and
let your house be plainly furnish'd with mo
derate conveniencies. Don't consider what
your estate can afford, but what right reason
requires.
Let your dress be sober, clean, and modest,
not to set out the beauty of your person, but
to declare the sobriety of your mind, that
your outward garb may resemble the inward
plainness and simplicity of your heart. For it
is highly reasonable, that you should be one
man, all of a piece, and appear outwardly
such as you are inwardly.
As to your meat and drink, in them observe
the highest rules of Christian temperance and
sobriety ; consider your body only as the ser
vant and minister of your soul ; and only so
nourish it, as it may best perform an humble
and obedient service to it.
But, my son, observe this as a most princi
pal thing, which I shall remember you of, as
long as I live v.'ith you. v
Hate and despise all human glory, for it is
nothing else but human folly. It is the grea
test
344
Serious CALL
test snare^ and the greatest betrayer that you
can possibly admit into your heart.
Love humility in all its instances, practise
it in all its parts, for it is the noblest state of
the soul of man ; it will set your heart and
affections right towards God, and till you with
every temper that is tender and affectionate
towards men.
Let every day therefore be a day of humi
lity, condescend to all the weakness, and in-
iirmities of your fellow-creatures, cover their
frailties, love their excellencies, encourage
their virtues, relieve their wants, rejoice in
their prosperities, compassionate their distress,
receive their friendship, overlook their un-
kindness, forgive their malice, be a servant of
servants, and condescend to do the lowest
offices to the lowest of mankind.
Aspire after nothing but your own purity
and perfection, and have no ambition but to
do every thing in so reasonable and religious
a manner, that you may be glad that God is
every where present, and sees and observes all
your actions. The greatest trial of humility,
is an humble behaviour towards your equals in
age, estate, and condition of life. Therefore
be careful of all the motions of your heart
towards these people. Let all your behaviour
towards them be govern'd by unfeigned love.
Have no desire to put any of your equals be
low you, nor any anger at those that would
put themselves above you. If they are proud,
they are ill of a very bad distemper, let them
therefore
to a Devout and Holy Life 345
therefore have your tender pity, and perhaps
your meekness may prove an occasion of their
cure. But if your humility should do them
no good, it will however be the greatest good
that you can do to your self.
Remember that there is but one man in the
world, with whom you are to have perpetual
contention, and be always striving to exceed
him, and that is your self.
The time of practising these precepts, my
child, will soon be over with you, the world
will soon slip through your hands, or rather
you will soon slip through it ; it seems but the
other day since I receiv'd these same instructi
ons from my dear Father, that I am now lea
ving with you. And the God that gave me
cars to hear, and a heart to receive what my
Father said unto me, will, I hope, give you
grace to love and follow the same instructions.
Thus did' Paternus educate his son.
Can any one now think that such an educa
tion as this, would weaken and deject the
minds of young people, and deprive the
world of any worthy and reasonable labours ?
It is so far from that, that there is nothing
so likely to enoble, and exalt the mind, and
prepare it for the most heroical exercise of
all virtues.
For who will say, that a love of God, a
desire of pleasing him, a love of our neigh
bour, a love of truth, of reason, and virtue,
a contemplation of eternity, and the rewards
of piety, are not stronger motives to great
and
346 A Serious CALL
and good actions, than a little uncertain popu
lar praise.
On the other hand, there is nothing in rea
lity that more weakens the mind, and reduces
it to meanness and slavery, nothing that
makes it less master of its own actions, or less
capable of following reason, than a love of
praise and honour.
For as praise and honour are often given to
things and persons, where they are not due,
as that is generally most prais'd and honour'd,
that most gratifies the humours, fashions, and
vicious tempers of the world : so he that acts
upon the desire of praise and applause, must
part with every other principle ; he must say
black is white, put bitter for sweet, and sweet
for bitter, and do the meanest, basest things,
in order to be applauded.
For in a corrupt world, as this is, worthy
actions are only to be supported by their own
worth, where instead of being prais'd and ho
nour'd, they are most often reproach'd, and
persecuted.
So that to educate children upon a motive
of emulation, or a desire of glory, in a world
where glory it self is false, and most common
ly given 'wrong, is to destroy the natural inte
grity and fortitude of their minds, and give
them a biass which will oftner carry them to
base and mean, than great and worthy actions.
CHAP.
to a Devout and Holy Life 347
CHAP. XIX
Shelving hofw the method of educating daughters,
makes it difficult for them to enter into the
spirit of Christian humility. Pfoiv miserably
they are injured and abused by such an educa
tion. The spirit of a better education repre
sented in the character of Eusebia
HPHAT turn of mind which is taught
-*- and encourag'd in the education of
daughters, makes it exceeding difficult for
them to enter into such a sense and practice of
humility, as the spirit of Christianity requi-
reth.
The right education of this sex is of the
utmost importance to human life. There is
nothing that is more desirable for the common
good of all the world. For though 'women
don't carry on the trade and business of the
world, yet as they are mothers, and mistresses
of families, that have for some time the care
of the education of their children of both
sorts, they are entrusted with that which is of
the greatest consequence to human life. For
this reason, good or bad women are likely to
do as much good or harm in the world, as
good or bad men in the greatest business or
life.
For as the health and strength, or weakness
of our bodies, is very much owing to their
methods
348
A Serious CALL
methods of treating us when we were young ;
so the soundness or folly of our minds are not
less owing to those JLrst tempers and ways of
thinking, which we eagerly receiv'd from the
love, tenderness, authority, and constant con
versation of our mothers.
As we call our first language our mother-
tongue, so we may as justly call our first tem
pers our mother-tempers ; and perhaps it may
be found more easy to forget the language, than
to part entirely with those temper; which we
learnt in the nursery.
It is therefore much to be lamented, that
this sex, on whom so much depends, who
have'the first forming both of our bodies and
our minds, are not only educated in pride, but
in the silliest and most contemptible part of it.
They are not indeed suffer'd to dispute with
us the proud prizes of arts and sciences, of
learning and eloquence, in which I have much
suspicion they would often prove our superi
ors ; but we turn them over to the study of
beauty and dress, and the whole world con
spires to make them think of nothing else.
Fathers and mothers, friends and relations, seem
to have no other wish towards the little girl,
but that she may have a fair skin, ajine shape,
dress ••well, and dance to admiration.
Now if a fondness for our persons, a desire
of beauty, a love of dress, be a part of pride
(as surely it is a most contemptible part of it)
the first step towards a ivoman s humility, seems
to require a repentance of her education.
For
to a Devout and Holy Life 349
For it must be own'd that, generally speak
ing, good parents are never more fond ot their
daughters, than when they see them too fond
of themselves, and dress1 d in such a manner,
as is a great reproach to the gravity and so
briety of the Christian life.
And what makes this matter still more to
be lamented, is this, That women are not
only spoil'd by this education, but we spoil
that part of the world, which would other
wise furnish most Instances of an eminent and
exalted piety.
For I believe it may be affirmed, that for
the most part there is ijiner sense, a clearer
mind, a readier apprehension, and gentler dispo
sitions in that sex, than in the other.
All which tempers, if they were truly im
proved by proper studies, and sober methods
of education, would in all probability carry
them to greater heights of piety, than are to
be found amongst the generality of men.
For this reason I speak of this matter with
so much openness and plainness, because it is
much to be lamented, that persons so natural
ly qualified to be great examples of piety,
should by an erroneous education, be made
poor and gaudy spectacles of the greatest va
nity.
The Church has formerly had eminent saints
in that sex ; and it may reasonably be thought,
that it is purely owing to their poor and vain
education, that this honour of their sex is for
the most part confin'd to former ages.
The
350 A Serious CALL
The corruption of the world indulges them
in great vanity, and mankind seem to consi
der them in no other view, than as so many
painted idols, that are to allure and gratify their
passions ; so that if many women are vain,
light , gugaiv creatures, they have this to ex
cuse themselves, that they are not only such
as their education has made them, but such as
the generality of the world al/oivs them to be.
But then they should consider, that the
friends to their 'vanity are no friends of theirs ;
they should consider, that they are to live for
themselves, that they have as great a share in
the rational nature as men have ; that they
have as much reason to pretend, and as much
necessity to aspire after the highest accomplish
ments of a Christian and solid virtue, as the
gravest and wisest amongst Christian Philoso
phers.
They~should consider, that they are abus'd
and injured, and betray' * d from their only per
fection, whenever they are taught, that any
thing is an ornament in them, that is not an
ornament in the wisest amongst mankind.
It is generally said, that 'women are natural
ly of little and vain minds; but this I look
upon to be as false and unreasonable, as to say,
that butchers are naturally cruel; for as their
cruelty is not owing to their nature, but to
their way of life, which has changed their na
ture ; so whatever littleness and vanity is to be
observed in the minds of women, it is like
the cruelty of butchers, a temper that is
wrought
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 5 i
wrought into them by that life which they
are taught and accustomed to lead.
At least thus much must be said, that we
cannot charge any thing upon their nature, till
we take care that it is not perverted by their
education.
And on the other hand, if it were true,
that they were thus naturally vain and light,
then how much more blameable is that edu
cation, which seems contriv'd to strengthen
and increase this folly and weakness of their
minds ?
For if it were a virtue in a woman to be
proud and vain in herself, we could hardly
take better means to raise this passion in her,
than those that are now used in their educa
tion.
Matilda is a fine woman, of good breeding,
great sense, and much religion. She has three
daughters that are educated by herself. She
will not trust them with any one else, or at
any school, for fear they should learn any thing
ill. She stays with the Dancing-master all the
time he is with them, because she will hear
every thing that is said to them. She has
heard them read the Scriptures so often, that
they can repeat great part of it without book :
And there is scarce a good book of devotion,
but you may find it in their closets.
Had Matilda liv'd in the first ages of Chri
stianity, when it was practis'd in the fulness
and plainness of its doctrines, she had in all
probability been one of its greatest saints.
z But
352
A Serious CALL
But as she was born in corrupt times, where
she wants examples of Christian perfection,
and hardly ever saw a piety higher than her
own ; so she has many defects, and communi
cates them all to her daughters.
Matilda never was meanly dress'd in her life;
and nothing pleases her in dress, but that
which is very rich, and beautiful to the eye.
Her daughters see her great zeal for Religi
on, but then they see an equal earnestness for
all sorts ofjinery. They see she is not negli
gent of her devotion, but then they see her
more careful to preserve her complexion, and to
prevent those changes, which time and age
threaten her with.
They are afraid to meet her, if they have
miss'd the Church ; but then they are more
afraid to see her, if they are not lacjd as
straight as they can possibly be.
She often shews them her oewn picture, which
was taken when their father fell in love with
her. She tells them, how distracted he was
with passion at thejirst sight of her, and that
she had never had sojine a complexion, but for
the diligence of her good mother, who took
exceeding care of it.
Matilda is so intent upon all the arts of im
proving their dress, that she has some neiv
fancy almost every day, and leaves no orna
ment untry'd, from the richest jewel to the
poorest jfoccwr. She is so nice and critical in
her judgment, so sensible of the smallest error,
that the maid is often forced to dress and un
dress
to a Devout and Holy Life 353
dress her daughters three or four times in a
day, before she can be satisfy 'd with it.
As to the patching, she reserves that to her
self; for, she says, if they are not stuck on
with judgment, they are rather a prejudice,
than an advantage to the face.
The children see so plainly the temper of
their mother, that they even affect to be more
pleased with dress, and to be more fond of
every little ornament, than they really are,
merely to gain her favour.
They saw their eldest sister once brought to
her tears, and her per*verseness severely repri
manded, for presuming to say, that she
thought it was better to cover the neck, than to
go so far naked as the modern dress requires.
She stints them in their meals, and is very
scrupulous of what they eat and drink, and
tells them how manyjine shapes she has seen
spoil'd in her time for want of such care. If
a. pimple rises in their faces, she is in a great
fright, and they themselves are as afraid to see
her with it, as if they had committed some
great sin.
Whenever they begin to look too sanguine
and healthful, she calls in the assistance of the
doctor ; and if physick, or issues, will keep the
complexion from inclining to coarse or ruddy,
she thinks them well imploy'd.
By this means they are poor, pale, sickly,
infirm creatures, vapour* d through want of
spirits, crying at the smallest accidents, swoon
ing away at any thing that frights them, and
hardly
354 ^ Serous CALL
hardly able to bear the 'weight of their best
cl oaths.
The eldest daughter liv'd as long as she
could under this discipline, and dy'd in the
twentieth year of her age.
When her body was open'd, it appeared
that her ribs had grown into her liver, and
that her other entrails were much hurt, by
being crushed together with her stays, which
her mother had order'd to be twitch'd so strait,
that it often brought tears into her eyes, whilst
the maid was dressing her.
Her youngest daughter is run away with
a gamester, a man of great beauty, who in
dressing and dancing has no superior.
Matilda says, she should die with grief at
this accident ; but that her conscience tells her,
she has contributed nothing to it her self.
She appeals to their closets, to their books of
devotion, to testify what care she has taken to
establish her children in a life of solid piety
and devotion.
Now though I don't intend to say, that no
daughters are brought up in a better way than
this, for I hope there are many that are ; yet
thus much I believe may be said, that the
much greater part of them, are not brought
up so well, or accustomed to so much Religi
on, as in the present instance.
Their minds are turn'd as much to the care
of their beauty and dress, and the indulgence
of vain desires, as in the present case, with
out having such rules of devotion to stand
against
to a Devout and Holy Life 355
against it. So that if solid piety, humility,
and a sober sense of themselves, is much want
ed in that sex, it is the plain and natural
consequence of a vain and corrupt educa
tion.
And if they are often too ready to receive
the first fops, beauxs, and fine dancer -s, for
their husbands ; 'tis no wonder they should like
that in men, which they have been taught
to admire in themselves.
And if they are often seen to lose that lit
tle Religion they were taught in their youth,
'tis no more to be wonder'd at, than to see
a little Jlofwer choak'd and kill'd amongst rank
weeds.
For personal pride, and affectation, a delight
in beauty, %&& fondness of finery, are tempers
that must either kill all Religion in the soul,
or be themselves kilPd by it ; they can no
more thrive together, than health and sick
ness.
Some people that judge hastily, will per
haps here say, that I am exercising too great
a severity against the sex.
But more reasonable persons will easily ob
serve, that I entirely spare the sex, and only
arraign their education ; that I not only spare
them, but plead their interest, assert their
honour, set forth their perfections, commend
their natural tempers, and only condemn that
education, which is so injurious to their inte
rests, so debases their honour, and deprives
them
356 A Serious CALL
them of the benefit of their excellent natures
and tempers.
Their education, I profess, I cannot spare ;
but the only reason is, because it is their
greatest enemy , because it deprives the world
of so many blessings, and the Church of so
many saints, as might reasonably be expected
from persons, so form'd by their natural tem
pers to all goodness and tenderness, and
so fitted by the clearness and brightness of
their minds, to contemplate, love and admire
every thing that is holy, virtuous and di
vine.
If it should here be said, that I even
charge too high upon their education, and that
they are not so much hurt by it, as I ima
gine :
It may be answer'd, that though I don't
pretend to state the exact degree of mischief
that is done by it, yet its plain and natural
tendency to do harm, is sufficient to justify
the most absolute condemnation of it.
But if any one would know, how generally
women are hurt by this education ; if he ima
gines there may be no personal pride, or vain
fondness of themselves, in those that are
patched and dress' d out with so much glitter
of art and ornament :
Let him only make the following experi
ment where-evcr he pleases.
Let him only acquaint any such woman
with his opinion of her : 1 don't mean that
lie should tell her to her face, or do it in any
rude
to a Devout and Holy Life 357
rude public k manner ; but let him contrive
the most civil, secret, friendly way that he
can think of, only to let her know his opini
on, that he thinks she is neither handsome^
nor dresses well, nor becomes her finery ; and I
dare say he will find there are but very few
fine dress* d women, that will like him never
the worse for his bare opinion, though known
to none but themselves ; and that he will not
be long without seeing the effects of her re
sentment.
But if such an experiment would shew him
that there are but few such women that could
bear with his friendship, after they knew he
had such an opinion of them, surely it is time
to complain, of, and accuse that education,
which so generally corrupts their hearts.
For though it is hard to judge of the hearts
of people, yet where they declare their re
sentment, and uneasiness at any thing, there
they pass the judgment upon themselves. If
a woman can't forgive a man who thinks she
has no beauty, nor any ornament from her
dress, there she infallibly discovers the state of
her own heart, and is condemn'd by her otun,
and not another's judgment.
For we never are angry at others, but when
their opinions of us are contrary to that which
we have of our selves.
A man that makes no pretences to scholar
ship, is never angry at those that don't take
him to be a scholar : So if a woman had no
opinion of her own person and dress, she would
never
358
A Serious CALL
never be angry at those, who are of the same
opinion with her self.
So that the general bad effects of this edu
cation are too much known, to admit of any
reasonable doubt.
But how possible it is to bring up daugh
ters in a more excellent way, let the following
character declare.
Eusebia is a pious widow, well born, and
well bred, and has a good estate for five daugh
ters, whom she brings up as one entrusted by
God, to fit five Virgins for the kingdom of
Heaven. Her family has the same regulation
as a religious house, and all its orders tend to
the support of a constant regular devotion.
She, her daughters, and her maids, meet
together at all the hours of prayer in the day,
and chant Psalms, and other devotions, and
spend the rest of their time in such good
works, and innocent diversions, as render
them fit to return to their Psalms and
Prayers.
She loves them as her spiritual children,
and they reverence her as their spiritual mo
ther, with an affection far above that of the"
fondest friends.
She has divided part of her estate amongst
them, that every one may be charitable out
of their own stock, and each of them take it
in their turns to provide for the poor and sick
of the Parish.
Eusebia brings them up to all kinds of la
bour that are proper for women, as solving,
knitting
to a Devout and Holy Life 359
knitting^ spinning^ and all other parts of house
wifery ; not for their amusement, but that
they may be serviceable to themselves and
others, and be sav'd from those temptations
which attend an idle life.
She tells them, she had rather see them re
duced to the necessity of maintaining them
selves by their own work, than to have riches
to excuse themselves from labour. For
though, says she, you may be able to
assist the poor without your labour, yet by
your labour you will be able to assist them
more.
If Eusebia has liv'd as free from sin as it is
possible for human nature, it is because she is
always watching and guarding against all in
stances of pride. And if her virtues are stron
ger and higher than other people's, 'tis because
they are all founded in a deep humility.
My children, says she, when your father
dy'd, I was much pity'd by my friends, as
having all the care of a family, and the ma
nagement of an estate fallen upon me.
But my own grief was founded upon ano
ther principle ; I was griev'd to see my self
depriv'd of so faithful a friend, and that such
an eminent example of Christian virtues,
should be taken from the eyes of his children,
before they were of an age to love and fol
low it.
But as to worldly cares, which my friends
thought so heavy upon me, they are most of
them
360 A Serious CALL
them of our own making, and fall away as
soon as we know our selves.
If a person in a dream is disturb'd with
strange appearances, his trouble is over as
soon as he is awake, and sees that it was the
folly of a dream.
Now when a right knowledge of our selves
enters into our minds, it makes as great a
change in all our thoughts and apprehensions,
as when we awake from the ivandrings of a
dream.
We acknowledge a man to be mad, or me
lancholy, who fancies himself to be glass, and
so is afraid of stirring ; or taking himself to
be wax, dare not let the Sun shine upon
him.
But, my children, there are things in the
world which pass for wisdom, politeness, gran
deur, happiness, and Jine breeding, which shew
as great ignorance of our selves, and might as
justly pass for thorough madness, as when a
man fancies himself to be glass, or ice.
A woman that dares not appear in the
world without Jine cloaths, that thinks it a
happiness to have a facejine/y coloured, to have
a skin delicately fair, that had rather die than
be reduc'd to poverty, and be forc'd to work
for a poor maintenance, is as ignorant of her
self to the full, as he that fancies himself to
be glass.
For this reason, all my discourse with you,
has been to acquaint you with your selves,
and to accustom you to such books and devo
tions
to a Devout and Holy Life 36 1
tions, as may best instruct you in this greatest
of all knowledge.
You would think it hard, not to know the
family into which you was born, what ance
stors you were descended from, and what
estate was to come to you. But, my children,
you may know all this with exactness, and
yet be as ignorant of your selves, as he that
takes himself to be wax.
For though you were all of you born of
my body, and bear your father's name, yet
you are all of you pure spirits. I don't mean
that you have not bodies that want meat and
drink, and sleep, and c loathing, but that all
that deserves to be called you, is nothing else
but spirit. A being spiritual, and rational in
its nature, that is as contrary to all fleshly
or corporeal beings, as life is contrary to death ;
that is made in the image of God, to live for
ever, never to cease any more, but to enjoy
life, and reason, and knowledge^ and happiness
in the presence of God, and the society of
Angels, and glorious Spirits, to all eter
nity.
Every thing that you call yours, besides
this spirit, is but like your cloathing ; some
thing that is only to be us'd for a while, and
then to end, and die, and wear away, and to
signify no more to you, than the cloathing and
bodies of other people.
But, my children, you are not only in this
manner spirits, but you are fallen spirits, that
began your life in a state of corruption and
disor-
362
A Serious CALL
disorder, full of tempers and passions, that
blind and darken the reason of your mind,
and incline you to that which is hurtful.
Your bodies are not only^oor and perishing
like your cloaths, but they are like infected
cloaths,ti\2i\. fill you with ill diseases and distem
pers, which oppress the soul with sickly ap
petites, and vain cravings.
So that all of us are like two beings, that
have, as it were, two hearts within us ; with
the one we see, and taste, and admire reason,
purity and holiness ; with the other we incline
to pride, and vanity, and sensual delights.
This internal war we always feel within us
more or less ; and if you would know the
one thing necessary to all the world, it is
this ; to preserve and perfect all that is ratio
nal ', holy and divine in our nature, and to mor
tify, remove and destroy all that vanity, pride
and sensuality, which springs from the corrup
tion of our state ?
Could you think, my children, when you
look at the world, and see what customs, and
fashions, and pleasures, and troubles, and projects,
and tempers, employ the hearts and time of
mankind, that things were thus, as I have told
you ?
But don't you be affected at these things,
the world is in a great dream, and but few
people are awake in it.
We fancy that we fall into darkness, when
we die ; but alas, we are most of us in the
dark 'till then ; and the eyes of our souls on-
to a Devout and Holy Life 363
ly then begin to see, when our bodily eyes
are closing.
You see then your state, my children ; you
are to honour, improve and perfect the spirit
that is within you, you are to prepare it for
the kingdom of Heaven, to nourish it with
the love of God, and of virtue, to adorn it
with good-works, and to make it as holy and
heavenly as you can. You are to preserve it
from the errors and vanities of the world ; to
save it from the corruptions of the bodyj
from those false delights, and sensual tempers,
which the body tempts it with.
You are to nourish your spirits with pious
readings, and holy meditations, with watch-
ings, fastings, and prayers, that you may
taste, and relish, and desire that eternal state,
which is to begin when this life ends.
As to your bodies, you are to consider them
as poor, perishing things, that are sickly and
corrupt at present, and will soon drop into
common dust. You are to watch over them
as enemies, that are always trying to tempt
and betray you, and so never follow their ad
vice and counsel ; you are to consider them as
the place and habitation of your souls, and so
keep them pure , and clean, and decent ; you
are to consider them as the servants and in
struments of action, and so give them food,
and rest, and raiment, that they may be
strong and healthful to do the duties of a cha
ritable, useful, pious life.
Whilst
364
A Serious CALL
Whilst you live thus, you live like your
selves ; and whenever you have less regard to
your souls, or more regard to your bodies,
than this comes to ; whenever you are more
intent upon adorning your persons, than up
on the perfecting of your souls, you are much
more beside yourselves, than he, that had ra
ther have a lacd coat, than an healthful body.
For this reason, my children, I have taught
you nothing that was dangerous for you to learn;
I have kept you from every thing that might
betray you into weakness and folly ; or make
you think any thing fine, but a Jlne mind;
any thing happy, but the favour of God ; or
any thing desirable, but to do all the good
you possibly can.
Instead of the vain, immodest entertain
ment of Plays and Opera's, I have taught you
to delight in visiting the sick and poor. What
musick, and dancing, and diversions are to ma
ny in the world, that prayers, and devotions,
and Psalms are to you. Your hands have not
been employ'd in plaiting the hair, and a-
dorning your persons ; but in making cloaths
for the naked. You have not wasted your
fortunes upon yourselves, but have added
your labour to them, for to do more good to
other people.
Instead of forc'd shapes, patched faces, gen
teel airs, and affected motions, I have taught
you to conceal your bodies with modest garments,
and let the world have nothing to view of
you
to a Devout and Holy Life 365
you, but the plainness, the sincerity, and hu
mility of all your behaviour.
You know, my children, the high perfecti
on, and the great rewards, of virginity ; you
know how it frees from worldly cares and
troubles, and furnishes means and opportuni
ties of higher advancements in a divine life ;
therefore love, and esteem, and honour virgi
nity : bless God for all that glorious company
of holy virgins, that from the beginning of
Christianity have, in the several ages of the
Church, renounced the cares and pleasures of
matrimony, to be perpetual examples of soli
tude, contemplation, and prayer.
But as every one has their proper gift from
God, as I look upon you all to be so many
great blessings of a married state ; so I leave it
to your choice, either to do as I have done, or
to aspire after higher degrees of perfection in
a virgin state of life.
I desire nothing, I press nothing upon you,
but to make the most of human life, and to
aspire after perfection in whatever state of life
you chuse.
Never therefore consider yourselves as per
sons that are to be seen, admir'd and courted
by men ; but as poor sinners, that are to save
yourselves from the vanities and follies of a
miserable world, by humility, devotion, , and
self-denial. Learn to live for your own sakes,
and the service of God ; and let nothing in
the world be of any value with you, but that
which
366
A Serious CALL
which you can turn into a. service to God, and
a means of your future happiness.
Consider often how powerfully you are cal
led to a virtuous life, and what great and
glorious things God has done for you, to make
you in love with every thing that can promote
his glory.
Think upon the vanity and shortness of
human life, and let death and eternity be oft
en in your minds ; for these thoughts will
strengthen and exalt your minds, make you
wise and judicious, and truly sensible of the
littleness of all human things.
Think of the happiness of prophets and
apostles, saints and martyrs, who are now re
joicing in the presence of God, and see them
selves possessors of eternal glory. And then
think how desirable a thing it is, to watch
and pray, and do good as they did, that when
you dye you may have your lot amongst
them.
Whether marry'd therefore, or unmarry'd,
consider yourselves as mothers and sisters, as
friends and relations to all that want your as
sistance; and never allow yourselves to be idle,
whilst others are in want of any thing that
your hands can make for them.
This useful, charitable, humble employ
ment of yourselves, is what I recommend to
you with great earnestness, as being a substan
tial part of a wise and pious life. And be
sides the good you will thereby do to other
people
to a Devout and Holy Life 367
people, eyery virtue of your own heart will
be very much improv'd by it.
For next to reading, meditation, and prayer,
there is nothing that so secures our hearts from
foolish passions, nothing that preserves so holy
and wise a frame of mind, as some useful,
humble employment of ourselves.
Never therefore consider your labour as an
amusement, that is to get rid of your time,
and so may be as trifling as you please ; but
consider it as something that is to be service
able to yourselves and others, that is to serve
some sober ends of life, to save and redeem
your time, and make it turn to your account,
when the works of all people shall be try'd by
fire.
When you was little, I left you to 1 ittle a-
musements, to please yourselves in any things
that were free from harm ; but as you are now
grown up to a knowledge of God, and your
selves ; as your minds are now acquainted with
the worth and value of virtue, and exalted
with the great doctrines of Religion, you are
now to do nothing as children, but despise
every thing that is poor, or vain, and imper- .
tinent ; you are now to make the labours of
your hands suitable to the piety of your
hearts, and employ yourselves for the same
ends, and with the same spirit, as you watch
and pray.
For if there is any good to be done by your
labour, if you can possibly employ yourselves
usefully to other people, how silly is it, how
2 A con-
368
A Serious CALL
contrary to the wisdom of Religion, to make
that a mere amusement, which might as easily
be made an exercise of the greatest charity ?
What would you think of the wisdom of
him, that should employ his time in distilling
of waters, and making liquors which no body
could use, merely to amuse himself with the
variety of their colour and clearness, when
with less labour and expence he might satisfy
the wants of those, who have nothing to
drink ?
Yet he would be as wisely employ'd, as
those that are amusing themselves with such
tedious works as they neither need, nor hard
ly know how to use v/hen they are linish'd ;
when with less labour and expence they might
be doiri£ as much good, as he that is cloathing
the naked, or visiting the sick.
Be glad therefore to know the wants of the
poorest people, and let your hands be employ'd
in making such mean and ordinary things for
them, as their necessities require. By. thus
making your labour a gift and service to the
poor, your ordinary work will be changed in
to a holy service, and made as acceptable to
God, as your devotions.
And as charity is the greatest of all virtues,
as it always was the chief temper of the great
est saints ; so nothing can make your own
charity more amiable in the sight of God, than
this method of adding your labour to it.
The humility also of this employment will
be as beneficial to you, as the charity of it.
It
to a Devout and Holy Life 369
It will keep you from all vain and proud
thoughts of your own state and distinction in
life, and from treating the poor as creatures of
a different species. By accustoming yourselves
to this labour and service for the poor, as the
representatives of Jesus Christ, you will soon
find your heart soften'd into the greatest meek
ness and lowliness towards them. You will
reverence their estate and condition, think it
an honour to serve them, and never be so
pleas'd with yourself, as when you are most
humbly employ 'd in their service.
This will make you true disciples of your
meek Lord and Master, who came into the
ivorld not to be minlstred unto, but to minister ;
and tho' he was Lord of all, and amongst the
creatures of his own making, yet was amongst
them, as one that serveth.
Christianity has then had its most glorious
effects upon your hearts, when it has thus
changed your spirit, removed all the pride of
life from you, and made you delight in hum
bling yourselves beneath the lowest of all your
fellow-creatures.
Live therefore, my children, as you have
begun your lives, in humble labour for the
good of others ; and let ceremonious visits,
and vain acquaintances, have as little of your
time as you possibly can. Contract no foolish
friendships, or vain fondnesses for particular
persons ; but love them most, that most turn
your love towards God, and your compassion
towards all the world.
But
370 A Serious CALL
But above all, avoid the conversation of
Jine-bred fops and beaux, and hate nothing
more than the idle discourse, the flattery and
compliments of that sort of men ; for they
are the shame of their own sex, and ought to
be the abhorrence of ours.
When you go abroad, let humility, mo
desty, and a decent carriage, be all the state
that you take upon you ; and let tenderness,
compassion, and good nature, be all the fine
breeding that you shew in any place.
If evil speaking, scandal, or backbiting, be
the conversation where you happen to be,
keep your heart and your tongue to yourself;
be as much griev'd as if you was amongst cur
sing and swearing, and retire as soon as you
can.
Though you intend to marry, yet let the
time never come, till you find a man that has
those perfections, which you have been labour
ing after yourselves ; who is likely to be a
friend to all your virtues, and with whom it
is better to live, than to want the benefit of
his example.
Love poverty, and reverence poor people ; as
for many reasons, so particularly for this, be
cause our blessed Saviour was one of the num
ber, and because you may make them all so
many friends and advocates with God for you.
Visit and converse with them frequently ;
you will often find simplicity, innocence, pati
ence, fortitude, and great piety amongst them ;
and
to a Devout and Holy Life 371
and where they are not so, your good exam
ple may amend them.
Rejoice at every opportunity of doing an
humble action, and exercising the meekness
of your minds ; whether it be, as the Scri
pture expresses it, in 'washing the saints feet^
that is, in waiting upon, and serving those
that are below you ; or in bearing with the
haughtiness and ill-manners of those that are
your equals, or above you. For there is no
thing better than humility ; it is the fruitful
soil of all virtues ; and every thing that is
kind and good, naturally grows from it.
Therefore, my children, pray for, and pra
ctise humility, and reject every thing in dress ^
or carriage, or conversation^ that has any ap
pearance of pride.
Strive to do every thing that is praise- wor
thy, but do nothing in order to be praised ;
nor think of any reward for all your labours
of love and virtue, till Christ cometh with all
his holy angels.
And above all, my children, have a care of
vain and proud thoughts of our own virtues.
For as soon as ever people live different from
the common way of the world, and despise
its vanities, the devil represents to their minds
the height of their own perfections ; and is
content they should excel in good works, pro
vided that he can but make them proud of
them.
Therefore watch over your virtues with a
jealous eye, and reject every vain thought, as
you
372 A Serious CALL
you would reject the most wicked imaginati
on ; and think what a loss it would be to you,
to have the fruit of all your good works de-
vour'd by the vanity of your own minds.
Never therefore allow yourselves to despise
those who do not follow your rules of life ;
but force your hearts to love them, and pray
to God for them ; and let humility be always
whispering it into your ears, that you your
selves will fall from those rules to-morrow, if
God should leave you to your own strength
and wisdom.
When therefore you have spent days and
weeks well, don't suffer your hearts to con
template any thing as your own, but give all
the glory to the goodness of God, who has
carry'd you through such rules of holy living,
as you were not able to observe by your own
strength ; and take care to begin the next day,
not as proficients in virtue, that can do great
matters, but as poor beginners, that want the
daily assistance of God to save you from the
grossest sins^
Your dear father was an humble, watchful,
pious, wise man. Whilst his sickness would
suffer him to talk with me, his discourse was
chiefly about your education. He knew the
benefits of humility, he saw the ruins which
pride made in our sex ; and therefore he con-
jur'd me with the tenderest expressions, to re
nounce the fashionable ways of educating
daughters in pride and softness, in the care of
their beauty and dress ; and to bring you all up
to a Devout and Holy Life 373
in thep/ainesi, simplest instances of an humble,
holy, and industrious life.
He taught me an admirable rule of humi
lity, which he practis'd all the days of his
life ; which was this ; to let no morning pass,
without thinking upon some frailty and infir
mity of our own, that may put us to confusion,
make us blush inwardly, and entertain a mean
opinion of our selves.
Think therefore, my children, that the
soul of your good father, who is now with
God, speaks to you through my mouth ; and
let the double desire of your father, who is
gone, and I, who am with you, prevail upon
you to love God, to study your own perfecti
on, to practise humility, and with innocent
labour and charity, to do all the good that
you can to all your fellow-creatures, 'till God
calls you to another life.
Thus did the pious widow educate her
daughters.
The spirit of this education speaks so plain
ly for its self, that, I hope, I need say nothing
in its justification. If we could see it in life,
as well as read of it in books, the world
would soon find the happy effects of it.
A daughter thus educated, would be a bles
sing to any family that she came into ; a fit
companion for a wise man, and make him
happy in the government of his family, and
the education of his children.
And she that either was not inclin'd, or
could not dispose of her self well in marriage,
would
374 A Serious CALL
would know how to live to great and excel
lent ends in a state of virginity.
A very ordinary knowledge of the spirit of
Christianity, seems to be enough to convince
us, that no education can be of true advan
tage to young women, but that which trains
them up in humble industry, in great plainness
of life, in exact modesty of dress, manners and
carriage, and in strict devotion. For what
should a Christian woman be, but a plain, un-
(iffected, modest, humble creature, averse to
every thing in her dress and carriage, that can
draw the eyes of beholders, or gratify the pas
sions of lewd and amorous persons ?
How great a stranger must he be to the
Gospel, who does not know that it requires
this to be the spirit of a pious woman ?
Our blessed Saviour saith, Whosoever looketh
upon a 'woman to lust after her,
St. Matth. v. f , , , • j j /,
2g hath already committed adultery
'with her in his heart.
Need an education which turns women's
minds to the arts and ornaments of dress
and beauty, be more strongly condemn'd,
than by these words ? For surely, if the eye
is so easily and dangerously betray'd, every art
and ornament is sufficiently condemn'd, that
naturally tends to betray it.
And how can a woman of piety more just
ly abhor and avoid any thing, than that which
makes her person more a snare and temptation
to other people ? If lust, and 'wanton eyes are
the death of the soul, can any women think
them-
to a Devout and Holy Life 375
themselves innocent, who with naked breasts,
patch'd faces, and every ornament of dress,
invite the eye to offend ?
And as there is no pretence for innocence in
such a behaviour, so neither can they tell how
to set any bounds to their guilt. For as they
can never know how much, or how often
they have occasion'd sin in other people, so
they can never know how much guilt will be
plac'd to their own account.
This one would think should sufficiently
deter every pious woman from every thing
that might render her the occasion of loose
passions in other people.
St. Paul, speaking of a thing entirely inno
cent, reasons after this manner : But take heed,
lest by any means this liberty of yours become a
stumbling-block to those that are 'weak.- And
through thy knowledge thy 'weak brother perish,
for whom Christ died. But 'when ye sin so a-
gainst the brethren, and wound their 'weak con
science, ye sin against Christ. Wherefore, if meat
make my brother to offend, I 'will j cor vjjj
eat nojlesh 'while the world standeth, 9,11.
lest I make my brother to offend.
Now if this is the spirit of Christianity ; if
it requires us to abstain from things thus law
ful, innocent and useful, when there is any
danger of betraying our weak brethren into
any error thereby : Surely it cannot be reck-
on'd too nice or needless a point of conscience,
for women to avoid such things, as are neither
innocent nor useful, but naturally tend to
corrupt
376
A Serious CALL
corrupt their own hearts, and raise ill passions
in other people.
Surely every woman of Christian piety
ought to say, in the spirit of the Apostle, if
patching and paint, or any vain adorning of my
person, be a natural means of making weak,
unwary eyes to offend, I will renounce all
these arts as long as I live, lest I should
make my fellow-creatures to offend.
I shall now leave this subject of humility ;
having said enough, as I hope, to recommend
the necessity of making it the constant, chief
subject of your devotion at this hour of
prayer.
I have consider'd the nature and necessity of
humility, and its great importance to a reli
gious life. I have shown you how many dif
ficulties are form'd against it from our natural
tempers, the spirit of the world, and the com-*
mon education of both sexes.
These considerations will, I hope, instruct
you how to form your prayers for it to the
best advantage ; and teach you the necessity
of letting no day pass, without a serious ear
nest application to God, for the 'whole spirit of
humility. Fervently beseeching him to fill
every part of your soul with it, to make it
the ruling, constant habit of your mind, that
you may not only feel it, but feel all your
other tempers arising from it ; that you may
have no thoughts, no desires, no designs, but
such as are the true fruits of an humble,
meek, and lowly heart.
That
to a Devout and Holy Life 377
That you may always appear poor, and
little, and mean in your own eyes, and fully
content that others should have the same opi
nion of you.
That the whole course of your life, your
expence, your house, y°iir dress, your manner
of eating, drinking, conversing, and doing eve
ry thing, may be so many continual proofs of
the true unfeigned humility of your heart.
That you may look for nothing, claim no
thing, resent nothing ; that you may go
through all the actions and accidents of life
calmly and quietly, as in the presence of God,
looking wholly unto him, acting wholly for
him ; neither seeking vain applause, nor re
senting neglects, or affronts, but doing and
receiving every thing in the meek and lowly
spirit of our Lord and Saviour . Jesus
Christ.
CHAP.
378 A Serious CALL
CHAP. XX
Recommending Devotion at twelve o 'Clock , call'd
in Scripture the sixth hour of the day. '1 Ins
frequency of Devotion equally desirable by all
orders of people. Universal love is here
recommended to be the subject of prayer at
this hour. Of intercession, as an act of uni
versal love
TT will perhaps be thought by some people,
•*• that these hours of prayer come too thick ;
that they can only be observ'd by people of
great leisure, and ought not to be press' d up
on the generality of men, who have the cares
of families, trades and employments ; nor upon
the gentry, whose state andjigure in the world
cannot admit of this frequency of Devotion.
And that it is only fit for Monasteries and Nun
neries, or such people as have no more to do
in the world than they have.
To this it is answer'd,
First, That this method of Devotion is not
press'd upon any sort of people, as absolutely
necessary, but recommended to all people, as
the best, the happiest, and most perfect way of
life.
And if a great and exemplary Devotion is
as much the greatest happiness and perfection
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 379
of a Merchant, a Soldier, or a man of Quality,
as it is the greatest happiness and perfection
of the most retired contemplative life, then it is
as proper to recommend it without any abate
ments to one order of men, as to another.
Because happiness and perfection are of the
same worth and value to all people.
The Gentleman and Tradesman may, and
must spend much of their time differently
from the pious Monk in the cloyster, or the
contemplative Hermit in the desart : But then,
as the Monk and Hermit lose the ends of re
tirement, unless they make it all serviceable
to Devotion ; so the Gentleman and Merchant
fail of the greatest ends of a social life, and
live to their loss in the world, unless Devoti
on be their chief and governing temper.
It is certainly very honest and creditable for
people to engage in trades and employments ; it
is reasonable for Gentlemen to manage well
their estates and families, and take such recrea
tions as are proper to their state. But then
every Gentleman and Tradesman loses the
greatest happiness of his creation, is robb'd of
something that is greater than all employ
ments, distinctions and pleasures of the world,
if he does not live more to Piety and Devo
tion, than to any thing else in the world.
Here are therefore no excuses made for men
of business andjigure in the world. First, Be
cause it would be to excuse them from that
which is the greatest end of living ; and be
only
38o
A Serious CALL
only finding so many reasons for making them
less beneficial to themselves, and less serviceable
to God and the world.
Secondly, Because most men of business and
figure engage too far in worldly matters ;
much farther than the reasons of human life,
or the necessities of the world require.
Merchants and Tradesmen, for instance, are
generally ten times farther engag'd in business
than they need ; which is so far from being a
reasonable excuse for their want of time for
Devotion, that it is their crime, and must
be censur'd as a blameable instance of cove-
tousness and ambition.
The Gentry, and people of Figure, either
give themselves up to State-employments, or to
the gratifications of their passions, in a life of
gaiety and debauchery ; and if these things
might be admitted as allowable avocations
from Devotion, Devotion must be reckoned a
poor circumstance of life.
Unless Gentlemen can shew that they have
another God, than the Father of our Lord Je
sus Christ ; another Nature, than that which
is deriv'd from Adam ; another Religion than
the Christian, 'tis in vain to plead their state,
and dignity, and pleasures, as reasons for not
preparing their souls for God, by a strict and
regular Devotion.
For since Piety and Devotion are the com
mon unchangeable means of saving all the souls
in the world that shall be saved, there is no
thing
to a Devout and Holy Life 3 8 1
thing left for the Gentleman, the Soldier, and
the Tradesman, but to take care that their se
veral states be, by care and watchfulness, by
meditation and prayer, made states of an ex
act and solid piety.
If a Merchant, having forbore from too
great business, that he might quietly attend
on the service of God, should therefore dye
worth twenty, instead of jiffy thousand pounds,
could any one say that he had mistaken his
calling, or gone a loser out of the world ?
If a Gentleman should have killed fewer
foxes, been less frequent at balls, gaming, and
merry-meetings, because stated parts of his
time had been given to retirement, to medita
tion and devotion, could it be thought, that
when he left the world, he would regret the
loss of those hours that he had given to the
care and improvement of his soul ?
If a Tradesman by aspiring after Christian
perfection, and retiring himself often from
his business, should instead of leaving his
children fortunes to spend in luxury and idle
ness, leave them to live by their own honest
labour ; could it be said, that he had made a
ewrong use of the world, because he had shewn
his children, that he had more regard to that
which is eternal, than to this which is so soon
to be at an end ?
Since therefore devotion is not only the best
and most desirable practice in a Cloyster, but
the best and most desirable practice of men, as
men, and in every state of life, they that de
sire
38a
A Serious CALL
sire to be excus'd from it, because they are
men of figure, and estates, and business, are no
wiser than those that should desire to be cx-
cus'd from health and happiness, because they
were men ofjigure and estates.
I can't see why every Gentleman, Merchant,
or Soldier, should not put these questions seri
ously to himself:
What is the best thing for me to intend and
drive at in all my actions ? How shall I do to make
the most of human life ? What ways shall I 'wish
that I had taken, when I am leaving the world ?
Now to be thus wise, and to make thus
much use of our reason, seems to be but a
small and necessary piece of wisdom. For
how can we pretend to sense and judgment,
if we dare not seriously consider, and answer,
and govern our lives by that which such que
stions require of us ?
Shall a Nobleman think his birth too high
a dignity to condescend to such questions as
these ? Or a Tradesman think his business too
great, to take any care about himself?
Now here is desir'd no more devotion in any
one's life, than the answering these few ques
tions, requires.
Any devotion that is not to the greater
advantage of him that uses it, than any thing
that he can do in the room of it ; any devo
tion that does not procure an infinitely
greater good, than can be got by neglecting
it, is freely yielded up, here is no demand of
it.
But
to a Devout and Holy Life 383
But if people will live in so much ignorance,
as never to put these questions to themselves,
but push on a blind life at all chances, in quest
of they don't know what, nor why ; without
ever considering the worth, or value, or ten
dency of their actions, without considering
what God, reason, eternity, and their own
happiness require of them ; it is for the ho
nour of devotion, that none can neglect it, but
those who are thus inconsiderate, who dare
not enquire after that which is the best, and
most worthy of their choice.
It is true, Claudius, you are a man of Ji-
gure and estate, and are to act the part of such
a station in human life ; you are not call'd as
Elijah was to be a Prophet, or as St. Paul, to
be an Apostle.
But will you therefore not love yourself?
Will you not seek arid study your own happi
ness, because you are not call'd to preach up
the same things to other people ?
You would think it very absurd, for a man
not to value his own health, because he was
not a Physician ; or the preservation of his
limbs, because he was not a bone-setter. Yet
it is more absurd for you, Claudius, to neglect
the improvement of your soul in piety, be
cause you are not an Apostle, or a Bishop.
Consider this text of Scripture, „
rr r r^ ,/ jj i / n Rom. viii. 13..
Jj ye live ajter the jiesh, ye shall
dye ; but if through the spirit
ye do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall
live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of
2 B God
384 A Serious CALL
God, they are the sons of God. Do you think
that this Scripture does not equally relate to
all mankind ? Can you find any exception here
for men ot figure and estates ? Is not a spiri
tual and devout life here made the common
condition, on which all men are to become
sons of God ? Will you leave hours of prayer,
and rules of devotion, to particular states of
life, when nothing but the same spirit of de
votion can save you, or any man, from eter
nal death ?
Consider again this text : For we must all
appear before the judgment-seat of
^ Cor. v. 10. ^C . J, J 6 .*
Christ, that every one may receive
the things done in his body, according to that he
hath done, whether it be good or bad. Now if
your estate would excuse you from appearing
before this judgment-seat ; if your figure could
protect you from receiving according to your
works, there would be some pretence for your
leaving devotion to other people. But if you,
who are now thus distinguished, must then ap
pear naked amongst common souls, without any
other distinction from others, but such as your
virtues or sins give you ; does it not as much
concern you, as any Prophet, or Apostle, to
make the best provision for the best rewards at
that great day ?
Again, consider this doctrine of the Apostle :
For none of us, that is, of us Chri-
Rom. xiv. 7. . Tii- tr j
stians, liveth to himselj, ana no man
dieth to himself: For whether we
live, we live unto the Lord ; and whether we
aye
to a Devout and Holy Life 385
dye, we dye unto the Lord. For to this end
Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he
might be Lord both of the dead and the
living.
Now are you, Claudius, excepted out of the
doctrine of this text ? Will you, because of
your condition, leave it to any particular sort
of people, to live and dye unto Christ ? If so,
you must leave it to them, to be redeemed by
the death and resurrection of Christ. For it
is the express doctrine of the text, that for
this end Christ dy'd and rose again, that none
of us should live to himself. 'Tis not that
Priests, or Apostles, or Monks, or Hermits,
should live no longer to themselves ; but that
none of us, that is, no Christian of what state
soever, should live unto himself.
If therefore there be any instances of piety,
any rules of devotion, which you can neglect,
and yet live as truly unto Christ, as if you
observed them, this text calls you to no such
devotion. But if you forsake such devotion,
as you yourself know is expected from some
particular sorts of people ; such devotion as
you know becomes people that live wholly
unto Christ, that aspire after great piety ; if
you neglect such devotion for any 'worldly con
sideration, that you may live more to your
own temper and taste, more to the fashions
and ways of the world, you forsake the terms
on which all Christians are to receive the be
nefit of Christ's death and resurrection.
Observe
386
A Serious CALL
Observe farther, how the same doctrine is
taught by St. Peter ; As he 'which
I Pet. 1. 15. 7 7 77 7 • 7 7 Z 77
hath called you is holy, so be ye holy
in all manner of conversation.
If therefore, Claudius, you are one of those
that are here called, you see what it is that you
are called to. It is not to have so much reli
gion as suits with your temper, your business,
or your pleasures ; it is not to a particular sort
of piety, that may be sufficient for Gentle
men of figure and estates ; but it is,Jirst, to be
holy, as he which hath called you is holy ; se
condly, it is to be thus holy in all manner of
conversation ; that is, to carry this spirit and
degree of holiness into every part, and thro'
the whole form of your life.
And the reason the Apostle immediately
gives, why this spirit of holiness must be the
common spirit of Christians, as such, is very
affecting, and such as equally calls upon all
sorts of Christians. Forasmuch as ye know,
says he, that ye 'were not redeemed 'with corrup
tible things, as silver and gold, from your vain
conversation but 'with the precious blood of
Christ, &c.
As if he had said, Forasmuch as ye know
ye were made capable of this state of holiness,
enter'd into a society with Christ, and made
heirs of his glory, not by any human means,
but by such a mysterious instance of love, as
infinitely exceeds every thing that can be
thought of in this world ; since God has re
deemed you to himself, and your own happi
ness
to a Devout and Holy Life 387
ness at so great a price, how base and shame
ful must it be, if you don't henceforth devote
yourselves wholly to the glory of God, and
become holy, as he who hath called you is
holy?
If therefore, Claudius, you consider your^f-
gure and estate', or if, in the words of the
text, you consider your gold and silver, and
the corruptible things of this life, as any rea
son why you may live to your own humour
and fancy, why you may neglect a life of strict
piety and great devotion ; if you think any
thing in the world can be an excuse for your
not imitating the holiness of Christ in the
whole course and form of your life, you make
yourself as guilty, as if you should neglect the
holiness of Christianity for the sake of picking
straws.
For the greatness of this new state of life
to which we are called in Christ Jesus, to be
for ever as the Angels of God in heaven, and
the greatness of the price by which we are
made capable of this state of glory, has turn
ed every thing that is worldly, temporal, and
corruptible into an equal littleness ; and made
it as great baseness and folly, as great a con
tempt of the blood of Christ, to neglect any
degrees of holiness, because you are a man of
some estate and quality, as it would be to neg-
glect it, because you had a fancy to pick stratus.
Again ; the same Apostle saith,
v * i i i • i i Cor. vi. 19.
Know ye not, that your body is the 2Q
temple of the Holy Ghost w/jic/j is in
you
388
A Serious CALL
you, and ye are not your o<wn ? For ye are bought
'with a price ; therefore glorify God in your bo
dy, and in your spirit, which are God's.
How poorly therefore, Claudius, have you
read the Scripture, how little do you know of
Christianity, if you can yet talk of your estate
and condition, as a pretence for a freer kind of
life?
Are you any more your o<wn, than he that
has no estate or dignity in the world ? Must
mean and little people preserve their bodies as
temples of the Holy Ghost, by 'watching, fast
ing, and prayer ; but may you indulge yours
in idleness, in lusts and sensuality, because you
have so much rent, or such a title of distincti
on ? How poor and ignorant are such thoughts
as these ?
And yet you must either think thus, or else
acknowledge, that the holiness of Saints, Pro
phets, and Apostles, is the holiness that you
are to labour after with all the diligence and
care that you can.
And if you leave it to others, to live in
such piety and devotion, in such self-denial,
humility and temperance, as may render them
able to glorify God in their body, and in their
spirit ; you must leave it to them also, to have
the benefit of the blood of Christ.
Again ; the Apostle saith, Tou kno'w ho<w
, ^ .. <we exhorted, comforted, andchtn-g-
' ed every one of you, that you would
•ivalk -"worthy of God, ewho hath culled you to his
king Join i if id glory.
You
to a Devout and Holy Life 389
You perhaps, Claudius, have often heard
these words, without ever thinking how much
they requir'd of you. And yet you can't con
sider them, without perceiving to what an
eminent state of holiness they call you.
For how can the holiness of the Christian
life be set before you in higher terms, than
when it is represented to you, as 'walking wor
thy of God ? Can you think of any abatements
of virtue, any neglects of Devotion, that are
well consistent with a life, that is to be made
worthy of God ? Can you suppose that any
man walks in this manner, but he that watches
over all his steps ; and considers how every
thing he does, may be done in the spirit of
holiness ? And yet as high as these expressi
ons carry this holiness, it is here plainly made
the necessary holiness of all Christians. For
the Apostle does not here exhort his fellow
Apostles and Saints to this holiness, but he
commands all Christians to endeavour after it,
We charged, says he, e very one of you, that you
would walk 'worthy of God, who hath called
you to his kingdom and glory.
Again, St. Peter saith, If any man speak,
let him steak as the oracles of God ;
•r • • * j * j- j •* I Pet- lv- XI-
ij any man minister, let him do it,
as of the ability that God giveth ; that God
in all things may be glorify' d in Jesus Christ.
Do you not here, Claudius, plainly perceive
your high calling ? Is he that speaketh, to
have such regard to his words, that he appear
to speak as by the direction of God ? Is he
that
390 A Serious CALL
that giveth, to take care that he so giveth,
that what he disposeth of may appear to be a
gift that he hath of God ? And is all this to
be done, that God may be glorify'd in all
things ?
Must it not then be said, Has any man No- '
b'dity, dignity of State, or jigure in the world ?
let him so use his Nobility, or Jigure of life,
that it may appear he uses these as the gifts of
God, for the greater setting forth of his Glo
ry. Is there now, Claudius, anything forc'd,
or far-fetch'd in this conclusion ? Is it not the
plain sense of the words, that every thing in
life is to be made a matter of holiness unto
God ? If so, then your estate and dignity is
so far from excusing you from great piety and
holiness of life, that it lays you under a great
er necessity of living more to the glory of
God, because you have more of his gifts that
may be made serviceable to it.
For people therefore of Jigure, or business,
or dignity in the world, to leave great piety,
and eminent devotion to any particular orders of
men, or such as they think have little else to
do in the world, is to leave the kingdom of
God to them.
For it is the very end of Christianity to re
deem all orders of men into one holy society,
that rich and poor, high and low, masters
and servants, may in one and the same spirit
of piety, become a chosen generation, a royal
Priesthood, tin holy Nation, a peculiar People,
that
to a Devout and Holy Life 39 1
that are to shew forth the praises of him, 'who
hath called them out of darkness*
, . 77 7. 7 I fet. 11. Q.
into his marvellous light.
Thus much being said to snew, that great
Devotion and Holiness is not to be left to any
particular sort of people, but to be the com
mon spirit of all that desire to live up to the
terms of common Christianity ; I now pro
ceed to consider the nature and necessity of
universal love, which is here recommended to
be the subject of your Devotion at this hour.
You are here also call'd to Intercession, as the
most proper exercise to raise and preserve that
love.
By intercession is meant a praying to God,
and interceding with him for our fellow-crea
tures.
Our blessed Lord hath recommended his
love to us, as the pattern and example of our
love to one another. As therefore he is con
tinually making intercession for us all, so
ought we to intercede and t>ray for one ano
ther.
A new commandment, saith he, / give unto
you, that ye love one another, as I have loved
you. By this shall all men know that ye are my
Disciples, if ye love one another.
The newness of this precept did not consist
in this, that men were commanded to love
one another ; for this was an old precept,
both of the law of Moses, and of nature.
But it was new in this respect, that it was to
imitate a new, and till then unheard-of ex
ample
392 A Serious CALL
ample of love ; it was to love one another, as
Christ had loved us.
And if men are to know that we are Disci
ples of Christ, by thus loving one another
according to his new example of love, then it
is certain, that if we are void of this love, we
make it as plainly known unto men, that we
are none of his Disciples.
There is no principle of the heart that is
more acceptable to God, than an universal ^ fer
vent love to all mankind, wishing and praying
for their happiness ; because there is no prin
ciple of the heart that makes us more like
God, who is love and goodness it self, and
created all beings for their enjoyment of hap
piness.
The greatest Idea that we can frame of God
is, when we conceive him to be a Being of in
finite love and goodness ; using an infinite wis
dom and power for the common good and hap
piness of all his creatures. .
The highest notion therefore, that we can
form of man is, when we conceive him as like
to God in this respect as he can be ; using all
his finite faculties, whether of wisdom, power,
or prayers, for the common good of all his
fellow-creatures : Heartily desiring they may
have all the happiness they are capable of,
and as many benefits and assistances from him,
as his state and condition in the world will
permit him to give them.
And on the other hand, what a baseness and
iniquity is there in all instances of hatred, en
vy
to a Devout and Holy Life 393
T", spight and ;//-<zw//; if we consider, that
every instance of them is so far acting in oppo
sition to God, and intending mischief and
harm to those creatures, which God favours,
and protects^ and preserves, in order to their
happiness ? An ill-natured man amongst God's
creatures, is the most perverse creature in the
world, acting contrary to that love, by which
himself subsists, and which alone gives subsi
stence to all that variety of beings, that enjoy
life in any part of the creation.
Whatsoever ye 'would that men should do unto
you, even so do unto them.
Now though this is a Doctrine of strict ju
stice, yet it is only an universal love that can
comply with it. For as love is the measure of
our acting towards our selves, so we can never
act in the same manner towards other people,
till we look upon them with that love with
which we look upon our selves.
As we have no degrees of spight, or envy,
or ill-will to our selves, so we cannot be dis-
pos'd towards others as we are towards our
selves, 'till we universally renounce all instan
ces of spight, and envy, and ill-will, even in
the smallest degrees.
If we had any imperfection in our eyes,
that made us see any one thing wrong, for the
same reason they would shew us an hundred
things wrong.
So if we have any temper of our hearts,
that makes us envious, or spightful, or ill-
natur'd towards any one man, the same tem
per
394 ^ Serious CALL
per will make us envious, and spightful, and
ill-natur'd towards a great many more.
If therefore we desire this divine virtue of
love, we must exercise and practise our hearts
in the love of all, because it is not Christian
love, till it is the love of all.
If a man could keep this whole law of love,
and yet offend in one point, he would be guil
ty of all. For as one allow' d instance of inju
stice destroys the justice of all our other acti
ons, so one allow'd instance of envy, spight,
and ill-will, renders all our other acts of be
nevolence and affection nothing worth.
Acts of love that proceed not from a princi
ple of universal love, are but like acts of ju
stice, that proceed from a heart not dispos'd to
universal justice.
A love which is not universal, may indeed
have tenderness and affection, but it hath no
thing of righteousness or piety in it ; it is but
humour, and temper, or interest, or such a
love as Publicans and Heathens practise.
All particular envies and spights, are as plain
departures from the spirit of Christianity, as
any particular acts of injustice. For it is as
much a law of Christ, to treat every body as
your neighbour, and to love your neighbour as
your self, as 'tis a law of Christianity, to ab
stain from theft.
Now the noblest motive to this universal
tenderness and affection, is founded in this
Doctrine, God is love, and he thai divellcth in
love, divelleth in God.
Who
to a Devout and Holy Life 395
Who therefore, whose heart has any ten
dency towards God, would not aspire after
this divine temper, which so changes and ex
alts our nature into an union with him ?
How should we rejoice in the exercise and
practice of this love, which so often as we
feel it, is so often an assurance to us, that
God is in us, that we act according to his
spirit, who is love it self? But we must ob
serve, that love has then only this migh
ty power of uniting us to God, when it is so
pure and universal^ as to imitate that love,
which God beareth to all his creatures.
God willeth the happiness of all beings,
though it is no happiness to himself. There
fore we must desire the happiness of all be
ings, though no happiness cometh to us from
it.
God equally delighteth in the perfections of
all his creatures, therefore we should rejoice in
those perfections, where-ever we see them,
and be as glad to have other people perfect
as our selves.
As God forgiveth all, and giveth Grace to
all, so we should forgive all those injuries and
affronts which we receive from others, and do
all the good that we can to them.
God almighty, besides his own great exam
ple of love, which ought to draw all his crea
tures after it, has so provided for us, and
made our happiness so common to us all, that
we have no occasion to envy or hate one ano
ther.
For
396
A Serious CALL
For we cannot stand in one anothers way,
or by enjoying any particular good, keep
another from his full share of it.
As we cannot be happy, but in the enjoy
ment of God, so we cannot rival, or rob one
another of this happiness.
And as to other things, the enjoyments and
prosperities of this life, they are so little in
themselves, so foreign to our happiness, and,
generally speaking, so contrary to that which
they appear to be, that they are no foundati
on for envy, or spight, or hatred.
How silly would it be to envy a man, that
was drinking poison out of a golden cup ? And
yet who can say, that he is acting wiser than
thus, when he is envying any instance of
worldly greatness ?
How many saints has adversity sent to Hea
ven ? And how many poor sinners has pros
perity plung'd into everlasting misery ? A man
seems then to be in the most glorious state,
when he has conquered, disgrac'd, and hum
bled his enemy ; though it may be, that same
conquest has sav'd his adversary, and undone
himself.
This man had perhaps never been debauch'd,
but for his fortune and advancement ; that had
never been pious, but through his poverty and
disgrace.
She that is envy'd for her beauty, may per
chance owe all her misery to it ; and another
may be for ever happy, for having had no ad
mirers of her person.
One
to a Devout and Holy Life 397
One man succeeds in every thing, and so
loses all : Another meets with nothing but
crosses and disappointments, and thereby gains
more than all the world is worth.
This Clergyman may be undone by his be
ing made a Bishop ; and that may save both
himself and others, by being fix'd to his first
poor vicaridge.
How envy'd was Alexander when conquer
ing the world, he built towns, set up his sta
tues, and left marks of his glory in so many
kingdoms !
And how despis'd was the poor preacher
St. Paul when he was beaten 'with rods \ And
yet how strangely was the world mistaken in
their judgment ! How much to be envy'd was
St. Paul \ How much to be pity'd was Alex
ander !
These few reflections sufficiently shew us,
that the different conditions of this life have
nothing in them to excite our uneasy passions,
nothing that can reasonably interrupt our
love and affection to one another.
To proceed now to another motive to this
universal love.
Our power of doing external acts of love
and goodness, is often very narrow and re-
strain'd. There are, it may be, but few peo
ple to whom we can contribute any worldly
relief.
But though our outward means of doing
good are often thus limited, yet if our hearts
are but full of love and goodness, we get as
it
A Serious CALL
it were an infinite power ; because God will
attribute to us those good works, those acts of
love, and tender charities, which we sincerely
desir'd, and would gladly have perform'd, had
it been in our power.
You cannot heal all the sick, relieve all the
poor ; you cannot comfort all in distress, nor
be a father to all the fatherless. You cannot, it
may be, deliver many from their misfortunes,
or teach them to find comfort in God.
But if there is a love and tenderness in your
heart, that delights in these good works, and ex
cites you to do all that you can : If your love
has no bounds, but continually 'wishes and prays
for the relief and happiness of all that are in
distress, you will be received by God as a be
nefactor to those, who have had nothing from
you but your good 'will, and tender affections.
You cannot build hospitals for the incurable ;
you cannot erect monasteries for the education
of persons in holy solitude, continual prayer
and mortification ; but if you join in your
heart with those that do, and thank God for
their pious designs ; if you are a friend to these
great friends to mankind, and rejoice in their
eminent virtues, you will be received by God
as a sharer of such good works as, though they
had none of your hands, yet had all your
heart.
This consideration surely is sufficient to
make us look to, and watch over our hearts
with all diligence ; to study the improvement
of our inward tempers, and aspire after every
height
to a Devout and Holy Life 399
height and perfection of a loving, charitable,
and benevolent mind.
And on the other hand, we may hence
learn the great evil and mischief of all 'wrong
turns of mind, of envy, spight, hatred, and
ill-will. For if the goodness of our hearts
will entitle us to the reward of good actions,
which we never performed ; it is certain that
the badness of our hearts, our envy, ill-na
ture, and hatred, will bring us under the
guilt of actions that we have never commit
ted.
As he that lusteth after a woman shall be
reckon'd an adulterer, though he has only
committed the crime in his heart ; so the ma
licious, spightful, ill-natur'd man, that only
secretly rejoices at evil, shall be reckon'd a mur
derer, though he has shed no blood.
Since therefore our hearts, which are always
naked and open to the eyes of God, give such
an exceeding extent and increase either to our
virtues or vices, it is our best and greatest bu
siness to govern the motions of our hearts, to
watch, correct, and improve the inward state
and temper of our souls.
Now there is nothing that so much exalts
our souls, as this heavenly love ; it cleanses
and purifies like a holy fire, and all ill tem
pers fall away before it. It makes room for
all virtues, and carries them to their greatest
height. Every thing that is good and holy
grows out of it, and it becomes a continual
source of all holy desires, and pious practices.
2 c By
4-OO A Serious CALL
By love, I don't mean any natural tenderness,
which is more or less in people, according to
their constitutions ; but I mean a larger prin
ciple of the soul, founded in reason and piety,
which makes us tender, kind, and benevolent
to all our fellow- creatures, as creatures of God,
and for his sake.
It is this love that loves all things in God,
as his creatures, as the images of his power, as
the creatures of his goodness, as parts of his
family, as members of his society, that be
comes a holy principle of all great and good
actions.
The love therefore of our neighbour is only
a branch of our love to God. For when we
love God with all our hearts, and with all our
souls, and with all our strength, we shall ne
cessarily love those beings that are so nearly
related to God, that have every thing from
him, and are created by him, to be objects of
his own eternal love. If I hate or despise
any one man in the world, I hate something
that God cannot hate, and despise that which
he loves.
And can I think that I love God with all
my heart, whilst I hate that which belongs
only to God, which has no other master but
him, which bears his image, is part of his
family, and exists only by the continuance of
his love towards it ?
It was the impossibility of this that made
St. John say, That if any man saith, he lo<veth
God, and haieth his brother^ he is a liar.
These
to a Devout and Holy Life 40 1
These reasons sufficiently shew us, that no
love is holy, or religious, till it becomes uni
versal.
For if Religion requires me to love all per
sons, as God's creatures, that belong to him,
that bear his image, enjoy his protection, and
make parts of his family and houshold ; if
these are the great and necessary reasons why
I should live in love and friendship with any
one man in the world, they are the same
great and necessary reasons why I should live
in love and friendship with every man in the
world ; and consequently I offend against all
these reasons, and break through all these ties
and obligations, whenever I want love towards
any one man. The sin therefore of hating or
despising any one man, is like the sin of ha
ting all God's creation ; and the necessity of
loving any one man, is the same necessity of
loving every man in the world. And though
many people may appear to us ever so sinful,
odious, or extravagant in their conduct, we
must never look upon that as the least motive
for any contempt or disregard of them ; but
look upon them with the greater compassion,
as being in the most pitiable condition that
can be.
As it was the Sins of the World, that made
the Son of God become a compassionate, suf
fering Advocate for all mankind ; so no one is
of the Spirit of Christ, but he that has the
utmost compassion for sinners. Nor is there any
greater sign of your own perfection, than when
you
402 A Serious CALL
you find yourself all love and compassion to
wards them that are very weak and defective.
And on the other hand, you have never less
reason to be pleas'd with yourself, than when
you find yourself most angry and offended at
the behaviour of others. All sin is certainly
to be hated and abhorred where-ever it is ; but
then we must set ourselves against sin, as we
do against sickness and diseases, by shewing
ourselves tender and compassionate to the sick
and diseased.
All other hatred of sin, which does not fill
the heart with the softest, tenderest affections
towards persons miserable in it, is the servant
of sin at the same time that it seems to be
hating it.
And there is no temper which even good
men ought more carefully to watch and guard
against than this. For it is a temper that
lurks and hides itself under the cover of many
virtues, and by being unsuspected does the
more mischief.
A man naturally fancies, that it is his own
exceeding love of virtue that makes him not
able to bear with those that want it. And
when he abhors one man, despises another, and
can't bear the name of a third, he supposes it
all to be a proof of his own high sense of vir
tue, and just hatred of sin.
And yet one would think, that a man
needed no other cure for his temper, than
this one reflection :
That
to a Devout and Holy Life 403
That if this had been the Spirit of the Son
of God, if he had hated sin in this manner,
there had been no redemption of the World :
That if God had hated sinners in this
manner day and night, the world itself had
ceased long ago.
This therefore we may take for a certain
rule, that the more we partake of the divine
nature, the more improved we are ourselves,
and the higher our sense of virtue is, fehe
more we shall pity and compassionate those
that want it. The sight of such people will
then, instead of raising in us a haughty con
tempt, or peevish indignation towards them,
fill us with such bowels of compassion, as
when we see the miseries of an hospital.
That the follies therefore, crimes, and ill
behaviour of our fellow-creatures, may not
lessen that love and tenderness which we are
to have for all mankind, we should often con
sider the reasons on which this duty of love is
founded.
Now we are to love our neighbour, that is,
all mankind, not because they are wise, holy,
virtuous, or well-behav'd ; for all mankind
neither ever was, nor ever will be so ; there
fore it is certain, that the reason of our being
obliged to love them, cannot be founded in
their virtue.
Again ; if their virtue or goodness were the
reason of our being oblig'd to love people, we
should have no rule to proceed by ; because
tho' some peoples virtues or vices are very no
torious
404 A Serious CALL
torious, yet, generally speaking, we are but
very ill judges of the virtue and merit of other
people.
Thirdly ', We are sure that the virtue or me
rit of persons, is not the reason of our being
oblig'd to love them, because we are com
manded to pay the highest instances of love
to our worst enemies ; we are to love, and
bless, and pray for those that most injuriously
treat us. This therefore is demonstration, that
the merit of persons is not the reason on which
our obligation to love them is founded.
Let us farther consider, what that love is,
which we owe to our neighbour. It is to love
him as ourselves, that is, to have all those
sentiments towards him, which we have to
wards ourselves ; to wish him every thing that
we may lawfully wish to ourselves ; to be glad
of every good, and sorry for every evil that
happens to him ; and to be ready to do him
all such acts of kindness, as we are always
ready to do to ourselves.
This love therefore, you see, is nothing
else but a love of benevolence ; it requires no
thing of us, but such good wishes, tender af
fections, and such acts of kindness, as we shew
to ourselves.
This is all the love that we owe to the best of
men ; and we are never to want any degree of
this love to the worst, or most unreasonable
man in the world.
Now
to a Devout and Holy Life 405
Now what is the reason why we are to love
every man in this manner ? It is answtr'd,
that our obligation to love all men in this
manner, is founded upon many reasons.
First, Upon a reason of equity ; for if it is
just, to love our selves in this manner, it must
be unjust to deny any degree of this love to
others, because every man is so exactly of the
same nature, and in the same condition as our
selves.
If therefore your own crimes and follies do
not lessen your obligation to seek your own
good, and wish well to your self; neither do
the follies and crimes of your neighbour,
lessen your obligation to wish and seek the
good of your neighbour.
Another reason for this love, is founded in
the authority of God, who has commanded
us to love every man as our self.
Thirdly, We are oblig'd to this love, in
imitation of God's goodness, that we may be
children of our Father which is in Heaven,
who willeth the happiness of all his creatures,
and maketh his Sun to rise on the evil, and
on the good.
Fourthly, Our redemption by Jesus Christ,
calleth us to the .exercise of this love, who
came from Heaven, and laid down his life,
out of love to the whole sinful world.
Fifthly
406 A Serious CALL
Fifthly, By the command of our Lord and
Saviour, who has requir'd us to love one ano
ther, as he has loved us.
These are the great, perpetual reasons, on
which our obligation to love all mankind as
our selves, is founded.
These reasons never vary, or change, they
always continue in their full force ; and there
fore equally oblige at all times, and in regard
to all persons.
God loves us, not because we are wise, and
good, and holy, but in pity to us, because
we want this happiness : He loves us, in or
der to make us good. Our love therefore
must take this course ; not looking for, or re
quiring the merit of our brethren, but pity
ing their disorders, and wishing them all the
good that they want, and are capable of re
ceiving.
It appears now plainly from what has been
said, that the love which we owe to our bre
thren, is only a love of benevolence. Secondly,
That this duty of benevolence is founded
upon such reasons as never vary or change ;
such as have no dependance upon the qualities
of persons. From whence it follows, that it
is the same great j-/';/, to want this love to a
bad man, as to want it to a good man. Be
cause he that denies any of this benevolence
to a bad man, offends against all the same
reasons of love, as he does that denies any
benevolence to a good man : And consequent
ly it is the same sin.
When
to a Devout and Holy Life 407
When therefore, you let loose any ill-na-
tur'd passion, either of hatred or contempt
towards (as you suppose) an ill man, consi
der what you would think of another, that
was doing the same towards a good man, and
be assured that you are committing the same
sin.
You will perhaps say, How is it possible to
love a good and a bad man in the same
degree ?
Just as it 's possible to be as just and faith
ful to a good man, as to an evil man. Now
are you in any difficulty about performing
justice and faithfulness to a bad Man ? Are
you in any doubts, whether you need be so
just and faithful to him, as you need be to a
good man ? Now why is it, that you are in
no doubt about it ? 'Tis because you know,
that justice and faithfulness are founded upon
reasons that never 'vary or change, that have
no dependance upon the merits of men, but
are founded in the nature of things, in the
laws of God, and therefore are to be observ'd
with an equal exactness towards good and bad
men.
Now do but think thus justly of charity,
or love to your neighbour, that it is founded
upon reasons, that vary not, that have no
dependance upon the merits of men, and then
you will find it as possible to perform the same
exact charity, as the same exact justice to all
men, whether good or bad.
You
408
A Serious CALL
You will perhaps farther ask, if you are
not to have a particular esteem, veneration and
reverence for good men ? It is answer'd ; Yes.
But then this high esteem and veneration, is a
thing very different from that love of benevo
lence which we owe to our neighbour.
The high esteem and veneration which you
have for a man of eminent piety, is no act of
charity to him ; it is not out of pity and
compassion that you so reverence him, but it
is rather an act of charity to your self, that
such esteem and veneration may excite you to
follow his example.
You may and ought to love, like, and
approve the life which the good man leads ;
but then this is only the loving of virtue,
where-ever we see it. And we don't love vir
tue with the love of benevolence, as any thing
that wants our good wishes, but as something
that is our proper good.
The whole of the matter is this. The
actions which you are to love, esteem, and ad
mire, are the actions of good and pious men ;
but the persons to whom you are to do all the
good you can, in all sorts of kindness and
compassion, are all persons, whether good or
bad.
This distinction betwixt love of benevo
lence, and esteem or veneration, is very plain
and obvious. And you may perhaps still bet
ter see the plainness and necessity of it, by
this following instance.
No
to a Devout and Holy Life 409
No man is to have a high esteem, or honour
for his own accomplishments, or behaviour ;
yet every man is to love himself, that is, to
wish well to himself; therefore this distinction
betwixt love and esteem, is not only plain,
but very necessary to be observ'd.
Again, if you think it hardly possible to
dislike the actions of unreasonable men, and
yet have a true love for them : Consider this
with relation to your self.
It is very possible, I hope, for you not only
to dislike, but to detest and abhor a great ma
ny of your own past actions, and to accuse
your self of great folly for them. But do
you then lose any of those tender sentiments
towards your self, which you us'd to have ?
Do you then cease to wish well to your self?
Is not the love of your self as strong then, as
at any other time ?
Now what is thus possible with relation to
our selves, is in the same manner possible
with relation to others. We may have the
highest good wishes towards them, desiring for
them every good that we desire for our selves,
and yet at the same time dislike their way of
life.
To proceed ; all that Jove which we may
justly have for our selves, we are in strict ju
stice oblig'd to exercise towards all other men ;
and we offend against the great law of our
nature, and the greatest laws of God, when
our tempers towards others are different from
those which we have towards our selves.
Now
410 A Serious CALL
Now that self-kite which is just and reasona
ble^ keeps us constantly tender, compassionate,
and well-affected towards our selves ; if there
fore you don't feel these kind dispositions to
wards all other people, you may be assur'd,
that you are not in that state of charity,
which is the very life and soul of Christian piety.
You know how it hurts you, to be made
the jest and ridicule of other people ; how it
grieves you to be robb'd of your reputation,
and deprived of the favourable opinion of your
neighbours : If therefore you expose others to
scorn and contempt in any degree ; if it pleases
you to see or hear of their frailties and infir
mities ; or if you are only loth to conceal
their faults, you are so far from loving such
people as your self, that you may be justly
supposed to have as much hatred for them, as
you have love for your self. For such tem
pers are as truly the proper fruits of hatred, as
the contrary tempers are the proper fruits of
love.
And as it is a certain sign that you love
your self, because you are tender of every
thing that concerns you ; so it is as certain a
sign that you hate your neighbour, when you
are pleas'd with any thing that hurts him.
But now, if the want of a true and exact
charity be so great a want, that, as St. Paul
saith, it renders our greatest virtues but em
pty sounds, and tinkling cymbals, how highly
does it concern us to study every art, and
practise every method of raising our souls to
this
to a Devout and Holy Life 4 1 1
this state of charity ? It is for this reason,
that you are here desir'd, not to let this hour
of prayer pass, without a full and solemn sup
plication to God, for all the instances of an
universal love and benevolence to all mankind.
Such daily constant devotion, being the on
ly likely means of preserving you in such a
state of love, as is necessary to prove you to
be a true follower of Jesus Christ.
CHAP. XXI
Of the necessity and benefit of Intercession, con
sider* d as an exercise of universal love.
Hovu at! orders of men are to pray and inter
cede ivith God for one another. Ho<w natu
rally such intercession amends and reforms the
hearts of those that use it
intercession is a great and ne-
cessary part of Christian Devotion, is
very evident from Scripture.
The first followers of Christ seem to sup
port all their love, and to maintain all their
intercourse and correspondence, by mutual
prayers with one another.
St. Paul, whether he writes to churches, or
particular persons, shews his intercession to be
perpetual for them, that they are the constant
subject of his prayers.
Thus
412 A Serious CALL
Thus to the Philippians, I thank my God
upon every remembrance of you.
Phil. 1.4, 5. £, .J r • r
Always in every prayer of mine J or
you a//, mating request with joy. Here we see,
not only a continual intercession, but per-
form'd with so much gladness, as shews that it
was an exercise of love, in which he highly
rejoic'd.
His Devotion had also the same care for
particular persons ; as appears by the follow
ing passage. / thank my God, 'whom I serve
' ^ „. . from my fore-fathers, 'with a pure
conscience, that 'without ceasing I
have remembrance of thee in my prayers night
and day. How holy an acquaintance and
friendship was this, how worthy of persons
that were rais'd above the world, and related
to one another, as new members of a king
dom of heaven !
Apostles and great Saints did not only thus
benefit, and bless particular Churches, and
private persons ; but they themselves also re
ceived graces from God by the prayers of o-
thers. Thus saith St. Paul to the Corinthians,
Tou also helping together by prayer
for us, that for the gift bestowed
upon us by the means of many persons, thanks
may be given by many on our behalf.
This was the antient friendship of Christians,
uniting and cementing their hearts, not by
worldly considerations, or human passions, but
by the mutual communication of spiritual
bles-
to a Devout and Holy Life 4 1 3
•
blessings, by prayers and thanksgivings to God
for one another.
It was this holy intercession that rais'd
Christians to such a state of mutual love, as
far exceeded all that had been prais'd and ad-
mir'd in human friendship. And when the
same spirit of intercession is again in the world,
when Christianity has the same power over the
hearts of people, that it then had, this holy
friendship will be again in fashion, and Chri
stians will be again the wonder of the world,
for that exceeding love which they bear to one
another.
For a frequent intercession with God, earn
estly beseeching him to forgive the sins of all
mankind, to bless them with his providence,
enlighten them with his Spirit, and bring
them to everlasting happiness, is the divinest
exercise that the heart of man can be engaged
in.
Be daily therefore on your knees in a solemn,
deliberate performance of this devotion, pray
ing for others in such/ormj, with such length,
importunity, and earnestness, as you use for
yourself; and you will find all little, ill-natured
passions dye away, your heart grow great and
generous, delighting in the common happiness
of others, as you used only to delight in your
own.
For he that daily prays to God, that all
men may be happy in heaven, takes the like
liest way to make them wish for, and delight
in fheir happiness on earth. x\nd it is hardly
possible
4i 4 d- Serious CALL
•
possible for you to beseech and intreat God to
make any one happy in the highest enjoy
ments of his glory to all eternity, and yet be
troubled to see him enjoy the much smaller
gifts of God in this short and low state of hu
man life.
For how strange and unnatural would it be,
to pray to God to grant health and a longer life
to a sick man, and at the same time to envy
him the poor pleasure of agreeable medicines ?
Yet this would be no more strange, or un
natural, than to pray to God that your neigh
bour may enjoy the highest degrees of his mer
cy and favour, and yet at the same time envy
him the little credit andjigure he hath amongst
his fellow-creatures.
When therefore you have once habituated
your heart to a serious performance of this ho
ly intercession, you have done a great deal to
render it incapable of spight and envy, and to
make it naturally delight in the happiness of
all mankind.
This is the natural effect of a general inter
cession for all mankind. But the greatest be
nefits of it are then received, when it descends
to such particular instances, as our state and
condition in life more particularly require of
us.
Though we are to treat all mankind as
neighbours and brethren, as any occasion offers ;
yet as we can only live in the actual society of
a few, and are by our state and condition more
particularly related to some than others ; so
when
to a Devout and Holy Life 4 1 5
when our intercession is made an exercise of
love and care for those amongst whom our lot
is fallen, or who belong to us in a nearer re
lation^ it then becomes the greatest benefit to
ourselves, and produces its best effects in our
own hearts.
If therefore you should always change and
alter your intercessions, according as the needs
and necessities of your neighbours or acquain
tance seem to require ; beseeching God to de
liver them from such or such particular evils,
or to grant them this or that particular gift,
or blessing ; such intercessions, besides the
great charity of them, would have a mighty
effect upon your own heart, as disposing you
to every other good office, and to the exercise
of every other virtue towards such persons, as
have so often a place in your prayers.
This would make it pleasant to you to be
courteous, civil, and condescending to all about
you ; and make you unable to say, or do a
rude, or hard thing to those, for whom you
had used yourself to be so kind and compas
sionate in your prayers.
For there is nothing that makes us love a
man so much, as praying for him ; and when
you can once do this sincerely for any man,
you have fitted your soul for the performance
of every thing that is kind and civil towards
him. This will fill your heart with a gene
rosity and tenderness, that will give you a bet
ter and sweeter behaviour, than any thing
that is called Jine breeding, and good manners.
2 D By
4i 6 A Serious CALL
By considering yourself as an advocate with
God for your neighbours and acquaintance,
you would never find it hard to be at peace
with them yourself. It would be easy to you
to bear with, and forgive those, for whom you
particularly implor'd the divine mercy and
forgiveness.
Such prayers as these amongst neighbours
and acquaintance, would unite them to one ano
ther in the strongest bonds of love and ten
derness. It would exalt and ennoble their
souls, and teach them to consider one another
in a higher state, as members of a spiritual
society, that are created for the enjoyment of
the common blessings of God, and fellow-
heirs of the same future glory.
And by being thus desirous, that every one
should have their full share of the favours of
God, they would not only be content, but
glad to see one another happy in the little
enjoyments of this transitory life.
These would be the natural effects of such
an intercession amongst people of the same
town or neighbourhood, or that were acquainted
with one another's state and condition.
Ouranius is a holy Priest, full of the spirit
of the Gospel, watching, labouring, and pray
ing for a poor country village. Every soul in
it is as dear to him as himself; and he loves
them all, as he loves himself; because he frays
for them all, as often as he prays for him-
self.
If
to a Devout and Holy Life 4 1 7
If his whole life is one continual exercise of
great zeal and labour, hardly ever satisfy'd
with any degrees of care and watchfulness,
'tis because he has learn'd the great value of
souls, by so often appearing before God, as an
intercessor for them.
He never thinks he can love, or do enough
for his flock ; because he never considers them
in any other view, than as so many persons,
that by receiving the gifts and graces of God,
are to become his hope, his joy, and his crown
of rejoicing.
He goes about his Parish, and visits every
body in it ; but visits in the same spirit of
piety that he preaches to them ; he visits them
to encourage their virtues, to assist them with
his advice and counsel, to discover their man
ner of life, and to know the state of their
souls, that he may intercede with God for
them, according to their particular necessities.
When Quranius first entred into holy orders,
he had a haughtiness in his temper, a great
contempt and disregard for all foolish and un
reasonable people ; but he has prayed a-
ivay this spirit, and has now the greatest ten
derness for the most obstinate sinners ; because
he is always hoping, that God will sooner or
later hear those prayers that he makes for their
repentance.
The rudeness, ill-nature, or perverse beha
viour of any of his flock, used at first to be
tray him into impatience ; but it now raises
no other passion in him, than a desire of be
ing
4i 8 A Serious CALL
ing upon his knees in prayer to God for them.
Thus have his prayers for others, alter' d and
amended the state of his own heart.
It would strangely delight you to see with
what spirit he converses, with what tenderness
he reproves, with what affection he exhorts,
and with what vigor he preaches ; and 'tis all
owing to this, because he reproves, exhorts,
and preaches to those, for whom he first prays
to God.
This devotion softens his heart, enlightens
his mind, sweetens his temper, and makes
every thing that comes from him, instructive,
amiable, and affecting.
At his first coming to his little Village, it
was as disagreeable to him as a prison, and
every day seem'd too tedious to be endured in
so retir'd a place. He thought his Parish was
too full of poor and mean people, that were
none of them fit for the conversation of a
Gentleman.
This put him upon a close application to
his studies. He kept much at home, writ
notes upon Homer and Plautus, and sometimes
thought it hard to be called to pray by any
poor body, when he was just in the midst of
one of Homer s battels.
This was his polite, or I may rather say,
poor, ignorant turn of mind, before devotion
had got the government of his heart.
But now his days are so far from being te
dious, or his Parish too great a retirement,
that he now only wants more time to do that
variety
to a Devout and Holy Life 4 1 9
variety of good which his soul thirsts after.
The solitude of his little Parish is become
matter of great comfort to him, because he
hopes that God has plac'd him and his flock
there, to make it their way to heaven.
He can now not only converse with, but
gladly attend and wait upon the poorest kind
of people. He is now daily watching over
the weak and infirm, humbling himself to
perverse, rude, ignorant people, where-ever
he can iind them ; and is so far from desiring
to be considered as a Gentleman, that he de
sires to be used as the servant of all ; and in
the spirit of his Lord and Master girds himself,
and is glad to kneel down and 'wash any of their
/*/.
He now thinks the poorest creature in his
Parish good enough, and great enough, to
deserve the humblest attendances, the kindest
friendships, the tenderest offices, he can possi
bly shew them.
He is so far now from wanting agreeable
company, that he thinks there is no better
conversation in the world, than to be talking
with poor and mean people about the kingdom
of heaven.
All these noble thoughts and divine senti
ments are the effects of his great devotion ;
he presents every one so often before God in
his prayers, that he never thinks he can esteem,
reverence, or serve those enough, for whom
he implores so many mercies from God.
Oura-
420 A Serious CALL
Ouranius is mightily affected with this pas
sage of holy Scripture, The effc-
Jam.v. 16. 6 , - J . - ' . -•"
r/#fl/, fervent prayer oj a righteous
man availeth much.
This makes him practise all the arts of holy
living, and aspire after every instance of piety
and righteousness, that i ,is prayers for his flock
may have their full force, and avail much with
God.
For this reason he has sold a small estate
that he had, and has erected a charitable re
tirement for antient, poor people to live in
prayer and piety, that his prayers being assist
ed by such good works, may pierce the clouds,
and bring down blessings upon those souls
committed to his care.
Ouranius reads how God himself said unto
Abimelech concerning Abraham, He
is a Prophet ; he shall pray for thee,
and thou shalt live.
And again, how he said of Job, And my
... servant Job shall pray for you ; for
Job xln. o. T . •// /"
him 'will 1 accept.
From these passages Ouranius justly con
cludes, that the prayers of men eminent for
holiness of life, have an extraordinary power
with God ; that he grants to other people such
pardons, reliefs and blessings, through their
prayers, as would not be granted to men of
less piety and perfection. This makes Oura
nius exceeding studious of Christian perfection,
searching after every grace and holy temper,
purifying his heart all manner of ways, fear-
ful
to a Devout and Holy Life 42 1
i
ful of every error and defect in his life, lest
his prayers for his flock should be less availing
with God, through his own defects in holi
ness.
This makes him careful of every temper of
his heart, give alms of all that he hath, watch,
and fast, and mortify, and live according to
the strictest rules of temperance, meekness, and
humility, that he may be in some degree like
an Abraham, or a Job in his Parish, and make
such prayers for them, as God will hear and
accept.
These are the happy effects, which a devout
intercession hath produc'd in the life of Our a-
ntus.
And if other people in their several stati
ons, were to imitate this example, in such a
manner as suited their particular state of life,
they would certainly find the same happy ef
fects from it.
If Masters, for instance, were thus to re
member their servants in their prayers, be
seeching God to bless them, and suiting their
petitions to the particular wants and necessi
ties of their servants ; letting no day pass,
without a full performance of this part of De
votion, the benefit would be as great to
themselves, as to their servants.
No way so likely as this, to inspire them
with a true sense of that power which they
have in their hands, to make them delight in
doing good, and becoming exemplary in all
the parts of a wise and good master.
The
422 A Serious CALL
The presenting their servants so often be
fore God, as equally related to God, and en
titled to the same expectations of Heaven, as
themselves, would naturally incline them to
treat them, not only with such humanity as
became fellow-creatures, but with such tender
ness, care, and generosity, as became felloe-
heirs of the same glory. This Devotion would
make masters inclined to every thing that was
good towards their servants ; be watchful of
their behaviour, and as ready to require of
them an exact observance of the duties of
Christianity, as of the duties of their ser
vice.
This would teach them to consider their
servants as God's servants, to desire their per
fection, to do nothing before them that
might corrupt their minds, to impose no bu
siness upon them that should lessen their
sense of Religion, or hinder them from their
full share of Devotion, both publick and pri
vate. This praying for them, would make
them as glad to see their servants eminent in
piety as themselves, and contrive that they
should have all the opportunities and encou
ragements, both to know and perform all the
duties of the Christian life.
How natural would it be for such a Master,
to perform every part of Family-Devotion;
to have constant prayers, to excuse no ones
absence from them ; to have the Scriptures,
and books of piety often read amongst his
servants ; to take all opportunities of in
structing
to a Devout and Holy Life 423
structing them, of raising their minds to God,
and teaching them to do all their business, as
a service to God, and upon the hopes and ex
pectations of another life ?
How natural would it be for such a one to
pity their weakness and ignorance, to bear
with the dulness of their understandings, or
the perverseness of their tempers ; to reprove
them with tenderness, exhort them with affe
ction, as hoping 'that God would hear his
prayers for them ?
How impossible would it be for a Master,
that thus interceded with God for his ser
vants, to use any unkind threatnings towards
them, to damn and curse them as dogs and
scoundrels, and treat them only as the dregs
of the creation.
This Devotion would give them another
spirit, and make them consider how to make
proper returns of care, kindness, and prote
ction to those, who had spent their strength
and time in service and attendance upon
them.
Now if Gentlemen think it too low an em
ployment for their state and dignity, to exer
cise such a Devotion as this for their servants,
let them consider how far they are from the
spirit of Christ, who made himself not only
an intercessor, but a sacrifice for the whole
race of sinful mankind.
Let them consider how miserable their
greatness would be, if the Son of God should
think it as much below him to pray for them,
as
424 A Serious CALL
0
as they do to pray for their fellow-crea
tures.
Let them consider how far they are from
that spirit, which prays for its most unjust
enemies, if they have not kindness enough to
pray for those, by whose labours and service
they live in ease themselves.
Again, if Parents should thus make them
selves advocates and intercessors with God for
their children, constantly applying to Heaven
in behalf of them, nothing would be more
likely, not only to bless their children, but
also to form and dispose their own minds to
the performance of every thing that was ex
cellent and praise-worthy.
I don't suppose, but that the generality of
Parents remember their children in their pray
ers, and call upon God to bless them. But
the thing here intended, is not a general re
membrance of them, but a regular method of
recommending all their particular needs and
necessities unto God ; and of praying for every
such particular grace and virtue for them, as
their state and condition of life shall seem to
require.
The state of Parents is a holy state, in some
degree like that of the Priesthood, and calls
upon them to bless their children with their
prayers and sacrifices to God. Thus it was
that holy Job watch'd over, and blessed his
children, he sanctify'd them, he
rose up early in the morning, and of
fer' d
to a Devout and Holy Life 425
fcr'd burnt- offerings, according to the number
of them all. v
If Parents therefore, considering them
selves in this light, should be daily calling up
on God in a solemn, deliberate manner, alter
ing and extending their intercessions, as the
state and growth of their children requir'd,
such Devotion would have a mighty influence
upon the rest of their lives ; it would make
them very circumspect in the government of
themselves ; prudent and careful of every
thing they said or did, lest their example
should hinder that, which they so constantly
desir'd in their prayers.
If a father was daily making particular
prayers to God, that he would please to in
spire his children with true piety, great humi
lity, and strict temperance, what could be more
likely to make the father himself become ex
emplary in these virtues ? How naturally
would he grow asham'd of wanting such vir
tues, as he thought necessary for his children ?
So that his prayers for their piety, would be
a certain means of exalting his own to its
greatest height.
If a father thus considered himself as an in
tercessor with God for his children, to bless
them with his prayers, what more likely
means to make him aspire after every degree
of holiness, that he might thereby be fitter
to obtain blessings from Heaven for them ?
How would such thoughts make him avoid
every thing vhat was sinful and displeasing to
God
426 A Serious CALL
God, lest when he pray'd for his children,
God should reject his prayers ?
How tenderly, how religiously would such
a father converse with his children, whom he
considered as his little spiritual flock, whose vir
tues he was to form by his example, encourage
by his authority, nourish by his counsel, and
prosper by his prayers to God for them ?
How fearful would he be of all greedy and
unjust ways of raising their fortune, of bring
ing them up in pride and indulgence, or of
making them too fond of the world, lest he
should thereby render them incapable of those
graces, which he was so often beseeching God
to grant them ?
These being the plain, natural, happy ef
fects of this intercession, all parents, I hope,
who have the real welfare of their children at
heart, who desire to be their true friends and
benefactors, and to live amongst them in the
spirit of wisdom and piety, will not neglect
so great a means, both of raising their own
virtue, and doing an eternal good to those,
who are so near and dear to them, by the
strongest ties of nature.
Lastly, If all people, when they feel the
first approaches of resentment, envy, or con
tempt, towards others ; or if in all little dis
agreements, and misunderstandings whatever,
they should, instead of indulging their minds
with little low reflections, have recourse at
such times to a more particular and extraor
dinary
to a Devout and Holy Life 427
dinary intercession with God, for such persons
as had rais'd their envy, resentment, or dis
content ; this would be a certain way to pre
vent the growth of all uncharitable tem
pers.
If you was also to form your prayer, or in
tercession at that time, to the greatest degree
of contrariety to that temper which you was
then in, it would be an excellent means of
raising your heart to the greatest state of per
fection.
As for instance, when at any time you find
in your heart motions of envy towards any
person, whether on account of his riches,
power, reputation, learning, or advancement, if
you should immediately betake your self at
that time to your prayers, and pray to God
to bless and prosper him in that very thing,
which rais'd your envy ; if you should express
and repeat your petitions in the strongest
terms, beseeching God to grant him all the
happiness from the enjoyment of it, that can
possibly be receiv'd, you would soon find it to
be the best antidote in the world, to expel
the venom of that poisonous passion.
This would be such a triumph over your
self, would so humble and reduce your heart
into obedience and order, that the devil would
even be afraid of tempting you again in the
same manner, when he saw the temptation
turn'd into so great a means of amending arid
reforming the state of your heart.
Again
428 A Serious CALL
Again, If in any little difference or misun
derstandings that you happen'd to have at
any time with a relation, a neighbour, or any
one else, you should then pray for them in a
more extraordinary manner, than you ever
did before ; beseeching God to give them eve
ry grace, and blessing, and happiness you can
think of, you would have taken the speediest
method that can be, of reconciling all diffe
rences, and clearing up all misunderstand
ings. You would then think nothing too
great to be forgiven ; stay for no condescen
sions, need no mediation of a third person,
but be glad to testify your love and good-will
to him, who had so high a place in your se
cret prayers.
This would be the mighty power of such
Christian devotion ; it would remove all pee
vish passions, soften your heart into the most
tender condescensions, and be the best arbitra
tor of all differences that happened betwixt
you and any of your acquaintance.
The greatest resentments amongst friends
and neighbours most often arise from poor
punctilio's, and little mistakes in conduct. A
certain sign that their friendship is merely hu
man, not founded upon religious considerati
ons, or supported by such a course of mutual
prayer for one another, as the first Christians
used.
• For such devotion must necessarily either
destroy such tempers, or be itself destroyed by
them.
You
to a Devout and Holy Life 429
You cannot possibly have any ill temper, or
shew any unkind behaviour to a man, for
whose welfare you are so much concerned, as
to be his advocate with God in private.
Hence we may also learn the odious nature
and exceeding guilt of all spight, hatred, con
tempt, and angry passions ; they are not to be
considered as defects in good nature, and sweet
ness of temper, not as failings in civility of
manners, or good breeding, but as such base
tempers as are entirely inconsistent with the
charity of intercession.
You think it a small matter to be peevish or
ill-natur \l to such or such a man ; but you
should consider, whether it be a small matter
to do that, which you could not do, if you
had but so much charity as to be able to re
commend him to God in your prayers.
You think it a small matter to ridicule one
man, and despise another ; but you should con
sider, whether it be a small matter to want
that charity towards these people, which Chri
stians are not allowed to want towards their
most inveterate enemies.
For be but as charitable to these men, do
but bless and pray for them, as you are oblig'd
to bless and pray for your enemies, and then
you will find that you have charity enough,
to make it impossible for you to treat them
with any degree of scorn or contempt.
For you cannot possibly despise and ridicule
that man, whom your private prayers recom
mend to the love and favour of God.
When
430 A Serious CALL
When you despise and ridicule a man, it is
with no other end, but to makejiim ridicu
lous and contemptible in the eyes of other
men, and in order to prevent their esteem of
him. How therefore can it be possible for
you sincerely to beseech God to bless that man
with the honour of his love and favour, whom
you desire men to treat as worthy of their
contempt ?
Could you out of love to a neighbour, de
sire your Prince to honour him with every
mark of his esteem and favour, and yet at the
same time expose him to the scorn and derisi
on of your own servants ?
Yet this is as possible, as to expose that man
to the scorn and contempt of your fellow-
creatures, whom you recommend to the favour
of God in your secret prayers.
From these considerations we may plainly
discover the reasonableness and justice of this
doctrine of the Gospel, Whosoever
Matth.v. 22. , ;, 1-11 n i
shall say unto Ins brother, Racha,
shall be in danger of the council ; but 'whosoever
shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell
fire.
We are not, I suppose, to believe that eve
ry hasty word, or unreasonable expression, that
slips from us by chance, or surprize, and is
contrary to our intention and tempers, is the
great sin here signified.
But he that says, Racha, or ihoufoo/, must
chiefly mean him that allows himself in deli
berate, designed acts of scorn and contempt to
wards
to a Devout and Holy Life 43 i
wards his brother, and in that temper speaks
to him, and of him, in reproachful language.
Now since it appears, that thest tempers are
at the bottom the most rank uncharitablencss,
since no one can be guilty of them, but be
cause he has not charity enough to pray to
God for his brother ; it cannot be thought hard,
or rigorous justice, that such tempers should
endanger the salvation of Christians. For
who would think it hard, that a Christian
cannot obtain the favour of God for himself,
unless he reverence and esteem his brother
Christian, as one that bears the image of God,
as one for whom Christ dy'd, as a member of
Christ's body, as a member of that holy socie
ty on earth, which is in union with that tri
umphant Church in heaven ?
Yet all these considerations must be forgot,
all these glorious privileges disregarded, before
a man can treat him that has them, as an ob
ject of scorn and contempt.
So that to scorn, or despise a brother, or,
as our blessed Lord says, to call him Racha, or
foot, must be look'd upon, as amongst the
most odious, unjust, and guilty tempers, that
can be supported in the heart of a Christian,
and justly excluding him from all his hopes in
the salvation of Jesus Christ.
For to despise one for whom Christ dy'd, is
to be as contrary to Christ, as he that despi
ses any thing that Christ has said, or done.
If a Christian that had liv'd with the holy
Virgin Mary^ should, after the death of our
2 E Lord
432 A Serious CALL
Lord, have taken any occasion to treat her
with contempt, you would certainly say, thac
he had lost his piety towards our blessed Lord.
For a true reverence for Christ must have for
ced him to treat her with respect, who was so
nearly related to him.
I dare appeal to any man's mind, whether
it does not tell him, that this relation of the
Virgin Mary to our blessed Lord, must have
obliged all those that lived and convers'd with
her, to treat her with great respect and esteem.
Might not a man have justly dreaded the ven
geance of God upon him, for any scorn or
contempt that he had shewn to her ?
Now if this be plain and obvious reasoning,
if a contempt offer'd to the Virgin Mary must
have been interpreted a contempt of Christ,
because of her near relation to him, then let
the same reasoning shew you the great impiety
of despising any brother.
You cannot despise a brother, without de
spising him that stands in a high relation to
God, to his Son Jesus Christ, and to the holy
Trinity.
You would certainly think it a mighty im
piety to treat a 'writing with great contempt,
that had been written by the finger of God ;
and can you think it a less impiety to con
temn and vilify a brother, who is not only
the workmanship, but the image of God ?
You would justly think it great prophane-
ness to contemn and trample upon an Altar,
because it was appropriated to holy uses, and
had
to a Devout and Holy Life 433
.had had the body of Christ so often placed
upon it ; and can you suppose it to be less
prophaneness to scorn and trample upon a bro
ther, who so belongs to God, that his very
body is to be considered as the tern- r
pie of the Holy Ghost!
Had you despis'd and ill-treated the Virgin
Mary, you had been chargeable with the im
piety of despising her, of whom Christ was
born. And if you scorn and despise a brother,
you are chargeable with the impiety of despi
sing him, for whom Christ laid down his life.
And now if this scornful temper is founded
upon a disregard of all these relations, which
every Christian bears to God, and Christ, and
the Holy Trinity, can you wonder, or think
it hard, that a Christian who thus allows him
self to despise a brother, should be in danger
of hell fire ?
Secondly, It must here be observed, that
tho' in these words, 'whosoever shall say, Thou
fool, &c. the great sin there condemned is an
allowed temper of despising a brother ; yet we
are also to believe, that all hasty expressions,
and words of contempt, tho' spoken by surprize
or accident, are by this text condemned as
great sins, and notorious breaches of Christian
charity.
They proceed from great want of Christian
love and meekness, and call for great repen
tance. They are only little sins, when com-
par'd with habits and settled tempers of treat
ing
434 ^ Serious CALL
ing a brother despightfully, and fall as direct
ly under the condemnation of this text, as
the grossest habits of uncharitableness.
And the reason why we are always to ap
prehend great guilt, and call ourselves to a
strict repentance for these hasty expressions of
anger and contempt, is this ; because they sel
dom are what they seem to be, that is, mere
starts of temper, that were occasion'd purely
by surprize or accident, but are much more
our own proper acts, than we generally ima
gine.
A man says a great many bitter things ; he
presently forgives himself, because he suppo
ses it was only the suddenness of the occasion,
or something accidental, that carry'd him so
far beyond himself.
But he should consider, that perhaps the ac
cident^ or surprize, was not the occasion of
his angry expressions, but might only be the
occasion of his angry temper shewing itself.
Now as this is, generally speaking, the case,
as all haughty, angry language generally pro
ceeds from some secret habits of pride in the
heart ; so people that are subject to it, tho'
only now and then as accidents happen, have
great reason to repent of more than their pre
sent behaviour, to charge themselves with
greater guilt than accidental passion, and to
bring themselves to such penance and morti
fication, as is proper to destroy habits of a
haughty spirit.
And
to a Devout and Holy Life 435
And this may be the reason, why the text
looks no farther than the outward language ;
why it only says, Whose*uer shall say, Thou
fool; because few can proceed so far, as to the
accidental use of haughty , disdainful language,
but they whose hearts are more or less possess'd
with habits and settled tempers of pride and
haughtiness.
But to return. Intercession is not only the
best arbitrator of all differences, the best pro
moter of true friendship, the best cure and
preservative against all unkind tempers, all an
gry and haughty passions, but is also of great
use to discover to us the true state of our own
hearts.
There are many tempers which we think
lawful and innocent, which we never suspect of
any harm ; which, if they were to be try'd
by this devotion, would soon shew us how we
have deceiv'd ourselves.
Susurrus is a pious, temperate, good man,
remarkable for abundance of excellent quali
ties. No one more constant at the service of
the Church, or whose heart is more affected
with it. His charity is so great, that he al
most starves himself, to be able to give greater
alms to the poor.
Yet Susurrus had a prodigious failing along
with these great virtues.
He had a mighty inclination to hear and
discover all the defects and infirmities of all
about him. You was welcome to tell him
any thing of any body, provided that you did
not
436 A Serious CALL
not do it in the stile of an enemy. He never
dislik'd an evil -speaker, but when his lan
guage was rough and passionate. If you would
but whisper any thing gently, though it was
ever so bad in it self, Susurrus was ready to
receive it.
When he visits, you generally hear him re
lating, how sorry he is for the defects and
failings of such a neighbour. He is always
letting you know how tender he is of the re
putation of his neighbour ; how loth to say
that which he is forc'd to say, and how glad
ly he would conceal it, if it could be con-
ceal'd.
Susurrus had such a tender, compassionate
manner of relating things the most prejudicial
to his neighbour, that he even seem'd, both
to himself and others, to be exercising a chri-
stian charity, at the same time that he was
indulging a whispering, evil - speaking tem
per.
Susurrus once whisper'd to a particular friend
in great secrecy, something too bad to be
spoke of publickly. He ended with saying,
how glad he was, that it had not yet took
wind, and that he had some hopes it might
not be true, though the suspicions were very
strong. His friend made him this reply :
You say, Susurrus , that you are glad it
has not yet taken wind ; and that you have
some hopes it may not prove true. Go home
therefore to your closet, and pray to God for
this man, in such a manner, and with such
earnest-
to a Devout and Holy Life 437
earnestness, as you would pray for your self
on the like occasion.
Beseech God to interpose in his favour, to
save him from false accusers, and bring all
those to shame, who by uncharitable whispers,
and secret stories, wound him, like those that
stab in the dark. And when you have made
this prayer, then you may, if you please, go
tell the same secret to some other friend, that
you have told to me.
Susurrus was exceedingly affected with this
rebuke, and felt the force of it upon his con
science in as lively a manner, as if he had
seen the books opend at the day of Judg
ment.
All other arguments might have been re
sisted ; but it was impossible for Susurrus
either to reject, or to follow this advice, with
out being equally self-condemn'd in the high
est degree.
From that time to this, he has constantly
us'd himself to this method of intercession ;
and his heart is so entirely chang'd by it, that
he can now no more privately whisper any
thing to the prejudice of another, than he
can openly pray to God to do people hurt.
Whisperings and evil-speakings now hurt
his ears, like oaths and curses ; and he has
appointed one day in the week, to be a day
of penance as long as he lives, to humble
himself before God, in the sorrowful confes
sion of his former guilt.
It
438
A Serious CALL
It may well be wonder'd, how a man of so
much piety as Susurrus, could be so long de-
ceiv'd in himself, as to live in such a state of
scandal and evil- speaking, without suspecting
himself to be guilty of it. But it was the
tenderness and seeming compassion with which
he heard and related every thing, that deceiv'd
both himself and others.
This was a falseness of heart, which was
only to be fully discover'd, by the true charity
of intercession.
And if people of virtue, who think as lit
tle harm of themselves, as Susurrus did, were
often to try their spirit by such an intercession,
they would often find themselves to be such,
as they least of all suspected.
I have laid before you, the many and
great advantages of intercession. You have
seen what a divine friendship it must needs
beget amongst Christians, how dear it would
render all relations, and neighbours to one
another ; how it tends to make Clergymen,
Masters, and Parents, exemplary and perfect
in all the duties of their station ; how certain
ly it destroys all envy, spight, and ill-natur'd
passions ; how speedily it reconciles all diffe
rences, and with what a piercing light it dis
covers to a man the true state of his heart.
These considerations will, I hope, persuade
you to make such intercession as is proper for
your state, the constant, chief matter of your
devotion at this hour of prayer.
CHAP.
to a Devout and Holy Life 439
CHAP. XXII
Recommending Devotion at three o* Clock, calPd
in Scripture the ninth hour of the day. The
subject of prayer at this hour, is resignation
to the divine pleasure. T 'he nature and duty
of conformity to the 'will of God in all our
actions and designs
T HAVE recommended certain subjects to be
made the fix'd and chief matter of your
Devotions, at all the hours of prayer that
have been already considered.
As thanksgiving, and oblation of your self
to God, at your first prayers in the morning.
At nine, the great virtue of Christian humi
lity is to be the chief part of your petitions ;
at twelve, you are call'd upon to pray for all
the graces of universal love, and to raise it in
your heart by such general and particular in
tercessions, as your own state, and relation to
other people, seem more particularly to re
quire of you.
At this hour of the afternoon, you are de-
sir'd to consider the necessity of resignation and
conformity to the will of God, and to make
this great virtue the principal matter of your
prayers.
There is nothing wise, or holy, or just, but
the great will oi God. This is as strictly true
440 A Serious CALL ;
in the most rigid sense, as to say, that no
thing is infinite and eternal but God.
No beings therefore, whether in Heaven,
or on earth, can be wise, or holy, or just, but
so far as they conform to this 'will of God. It
is conformity to this will, that gives virtue
and perfection to the highest services of angels
in Heaven ; and it is conformity to the same
will, that makes the ordinary actions of men
on earth, become an acceptable service unto
God.
The whole nature of virtue consists in con
forming, and the whole nature of vice in de
clining from the will of God. All God's
creatures are created to fulfil his will ; the
Sun and Moon obey his will, by the necessity
of their nature ; Angels conform to his will,
by the perfection of their nature : If there
fore you would shew your self not to be a
rebel and apostate from the order of the crea
tion, you must act like beings both above and
below you; it must be the great desire of
your soul, that God's will may be done by
you on earth, as it is done in heaven. It
must be the settled purpose and intention of
your heart, to 'will nothing, design nothing,
do nothing, but so far as you have reason to
believe, that it is the will of God, that you
should so desire, design and do.
'Tis as just and necessary to live in this state
of heart, to think thus of God and your
self, as to think that you have any depen-
dance upon him. And it is as great a rebel
lion
to a Devout and Holy Life 44 1
lion against *God, to think that your will may
ever differ from his, as to think that you have
not receiv'd the power of 'willing from him.
You are therefore to consider your self as a
being, that has no other business in the world,
but to be that which God requires you to be ;
to have no tempers, no rules of your own,
to seek no self-designs, or self-ends, but to fill
some place, and act some part in strict confor
mity, and thankful resignation to the divine
pleasure.
To think that you are your own, or at
your own disposal, is as absurd as to think
that you created, and can preserve your self.
It is as plain and necessary a first principle, to
believe you are thus God's, that you thus be
long to him, and are to act and suffer all in a
thankful resignation to his pleasure, as to be
lieve, that in him you live, and move, and
have your being.
Resignation to the divine will, signifies a
chearful approbation, and thankful acceptance
of every thing that comes from God. It is
not enough patiently to submit, but we must
thankfully receive, and fully approve of every
thing, that by the order of God's providence
happens to us.
For there is no reason why we should be
patient, but what is as good and strong a rea
son why we should be thankful. If we were
under the hands of a wise and good Physician,
that could not mistake, or do any thing to
us, but what certainly tended to our benefit ;
it
442 A Serious CALL
it would not be enough to be patient, and
abstain from murmuring against such a Physi
cian ; but it would be as great a breach of
duty and gratitude to him, not to be pleas'd
and thankful for what he did, as it would be
to murmur at him.
Now this is our true state with relation to
God ; we can't be said so much as to believe in
him, unless we believe him to be of infinite
wisdom. Every argument therefore for pati
ence under his disposal of us, is as strong an
argument for approbation and thankfulness
for every thing that he does to us. And
there needs no more to dispose us to this gra
titude towards God, than a full belief in
him, that he is this being of infinite wisdom,
love and goodness.
Do but assent to this truth, in the same
manner as you assent to things of which you
have no doubt, and then you will chearfully *
approve of every thing, that God has already
approv'd for you.
For as you cannot possibly be pleas'd with
the behaviour of any person towards you, but
because it is for your good, is wise in its self,
and the effect of his love and goodness to
wards you ; so when you are satisfy'd that
God does not only do that which is wise, and
good, and kind, but that which is the effect
of an infinite wisdom and love in the care of
you ; it will be as necessary, whilst you have
this faith, to be thankful and pleas'd with
every
to a Devout and Holy Life 443
every thing which God chuses for you, as to
wish your own happiness.
Whenever therefore you find your self dis-
pos'd to uneasiness, or murmuring at any thing,
that is the effect of God's providence over you,
you must look upon your self as denying ei
ther the wisdom or goodness of God. For
every complaint necessarily supposes this.
You would never complain of your neighbour,
but that you suppose you can shew either his
unwise, unjust, or unkind behaviour towards
you.
Now every murmuring, impatient reflecti
on under the providence of God, is the same
accusation of God. A, complaint always sup
poses /// usage.
Hence also you may see the great necessity
and piety of this thankful state of heart, be
cause the want of it implies an accusation of
God's want either of wisdom, or goodness, in
his disposal of us. It is not therefore any
high degree of perfection, founded in any
uncommon nicety of thinking, or rejin d noti
ons, but a plain principle, founded in this
plain belief, that God is a being of infinite
wisdom and goodness.
Now this resignation to the divine will,
may be consider 'd in two respects ; First, As
it signifies a thankful approbation of God's
general providence over the world : Secondly,
As it signifies a thankful acceptance of his
particular providence over us.
First
444 ^ Serious CALL
First, Every man is by the law of his crea
tion, by the first article of his creed, oblig'd
to consent to, and acknowledge the wisdom
and goodness of God, in his general provi
dence over the whole world. Ht is to believe
that it is the effect of God's great wisdom and
goodness, that the world it self was form'd at
such a particular time, and in such a manner.
That the general order of nature, the whole
frame of things, is contriv'd and form'd in
the best manner. He is to believe that God's
providence over states and kingdoms, times
and seasons, is all for the best. That the re
volutions of state, and changes of empire,
the rise and fall of monarchies, persecutions,
wars, famines, and plagues, are all permitted,
and conducted by God's providence, to the
general good of man in this state of trial.
A good man is to believe all this, with
the same fulness of assent, as he believes that
God is in every place, though he neither sees,
nor can comprehend the manner of his pre
sence.
This is a noble magnificence of thought, a
true religious greatness of mind, to be thus
affected with God's general providence, admi
ring and magnifying his wisdom in all things ;
never murmuring at the course of the world,
or the state of things, but looking upon all
around, at heaven and earth, as a pleas'd
spectator ; and adoring that invisible hand,
which gives laws to all motions, and over
rules
to a Devout and Holy Life 445
rules all events to ends suitable to the
highest wisdom and goodness.
It is very common for people to allow them
selves great liberty in finding fault with such
things, as have only God for their cause.
Every one thinks he may justly say, what
a wretched, abominable climate he lives in.
This man is frequently telling you, what a
dismal, cursed day it is, and what intolerable
seasons we have. Another thinks he has very
little to thank God for, that it is hardly worth
his while to live in a world so full of changes
and revolutions. But these are tempers of
great impiety, and shew that religion has not
yet its seat in the heart of those that have
them.
It sounds indeed much better to murmur
at the course of the world, or the state of
things, than to murmur at providence ; to
complain of the seasons and weather, than to
complain of God ; but if these have no other
cause but God and his providence, it is a poor
distinction to say, that you are only angry at
the things, but not at the cause and director
of them.
How sacred the whole frame of the world
is, how all things are to be consider'd as God's,
and referr'd to him, is fully taught by our
blessed Lord in the case of oaths : But I say
unto you. Snvear not at all ; neither
77 f ••/-•/>/ Matth. v-37.
by heaven, for it is God s throne ;
nor by the earth, for it is his footstool ; neither
by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great
King
446 A Serious CALL
King ; neither shalt than swear by thy head, be
cause thou canst not make one hair white or black ;
that is, because the whiteness or blackness of
thy hair is not thine, but God's.
Here you see all things in the whole order
of nature, from the highest heavens to the
smallest hair, are always to be considered, not
separately as they are in themselves, but as in
some relation to God. And if this be good
reasoning, thou shalt not swear by the earth,
a city, or thy hair, because these things are
God's, and in a certain manner belong to him ;
is it not exactly the same reasoning to say,
Thou shalt not murmur at the seasons of the
earth, the states of cities, and the change of
times, because all these things are in the hands
of God, have him for their Author, are di
rected and governed by him to such ends, as
are most suitable to his wise Providence ?
If you think you can murmur at the state
of things without murmuring at Providence,
or complain of seasons without complaining
of God ; hear what our blessed L ord say s farther
upon oaths : Whoso shall swear by
Mat. XXlll. 2O. , 77- 77 77
the altar, sweareth by it, and by all
things thereon : and whoso shall swear by the
temple, sweareth by him that dwelleth therein :
and he that shall swear by heaven, sweareth by
the throne of God, and by him that sitteth
thereon.
Now does not this Scripture plainly oblige
us to reason after this manner : Whoso mur
murs at the course of the world, murmurs at
God
to a Devout and Holy Life 447
God that governs the course of the world.
Whoso repines at seasons and weather, and
speaks impatiently of times and events, re
pines and speaketh impatiently of God, who
is the sole Lord and Governor of times, sea
sons, and events.
As therefore when we think of God himself,
we are to have no sentiments but of praise and
thanksgiving ; so when we look at those
things which are under the direction of God,
and govern'd by his Providence, we are to re
ceive them with the same tempers of praise
and gratitude.
And though we are not to think all things
right, and just, and lawful, which the Provi
dence of God permits ; for then nothing could
be unjust, because nothing without his permis
sion : yet we must adore God in the greatest
public k calamities, the most grievous perse
cutions, as things that are sufFer'd by God,
like plagues and famines, for ends suitable to
his wisdom and glory in the government of
the world.
There is nothing more suitable to the piety
of a reasonable creature, or the spirit of a
Christian, than thus to approve, admire, and
glorify God in all the acts of his general Pro
vidence : considering the whole world as his
particular family, and all events as directed by
his wisdom.
Every ojie seems to consent to this, as an
undeniable truth, That all things must be as
God pleases ; and is not this enough to make
2 F every
448 A Serious CALL
every man pleas'd with them himself? And
how can a man be a peevish complainer of any
thing that is the effect of Providence, but by
shewing that his own self-will and self-wisdom
is of more weight with him, than the will
and wisdom of God ? And what can Religion
be said to have done for a man, whose heart
is in this state.
For if he cannot thank and praise God, as
well in calamities and sufferings, as in prospe
rity and happiness, he is as far from the piety
of a Christian, as he that only loves them that
love him, is from the charity of a Christian.
For to thank God only for such things as you
like, is no more a proper act of piety, than
to believe only what you see, is an act of
faith.
Resignation and thanksgiving to God are
only acts of piety, when they are acts of faith)
trust and confidence in the divine Goodness.
The faith of Abraham was an act of true
piety, because it stopp'd at no difficulties, was
not altered or lessened by any human appear
ances. It first of all carry 'd him, against all
shew of happiness, from his own kindred and
country, into a strange land, not knowing whi
ther he went. It afterwards made him against
all appearances of nature, when his body was
Head9 'when he was about an hundred years old,
depend upon the promise of God, being fully
persuaded, that what God had promjs'd he was
able to perform. It was this same faith, that
against so many pleas of nature, so many
appear-
to a Devout and Holy Life 449
appearances of reason, prevail'd upon him to
offer up Isaac accounting that _ T
£ j LJ • L- /£ Heb. xi. 17, 19.
God was able to raise him upjrom
the dead.
Now this faith is the true pattern of Chri
stian resignation to the divine pleasure ; you
are to thank and praise God, not only for
things agreeable to you, that have the appear
ance of happiness and comfort ; but when you
are like Abraham, called from all appearances
of comfort, to be a pilgrim in a strange land,
to part with an only son ; being as fully persua
ded of the divine Goodness in all things that
happen to you, as Abraham was of the divine
promise, when there was the least appearance
of its being performed.
This is true Christian resignation to God,
which requires no more to the support of it,
than such a plain assurance of the goodness of
God, as Abraham had of his veracity. And
if you ask yourself, what greater reason Abra
ham had to depend upon the divine Veracity,
than you have to depend upon the divine
Goodness, you will find that none can be
given.
You cannot therefore look upon tnis as an
unnecessary, high pitch of perfection, since
the want of it implies the want not of any high
notions, but of a plain and ordinary faith in
the most certain doctrines both of natural and
reveal'd religion.
Thus much concerning resignation to the
divine Will, as it signifies a thankful appro
bation
450 A Serious CALL
bation of God's general providence : It is now
to be considered as it signifies a thankful ac
ceptance of Gotis particular providence over us.
Every man is to consider himself as a par
ticular object of God's providence ; under the
same care and protection of God, as if the
world had been made for him alone. It is
not by chance that any man is born at such a
time, of such parents, and in such place and
condition. It is as certain, that every soul
comes into the body at such a time, and in
such circumstances, by the express designment
of God, according to some purposes of his will,
and for some particular ends ; this is ascertain,
as that it is by the express designment of God,
that some beings are dngels, and others are
men.
It is as much by the counsel and eternal
purpose of God, that you should be born in
your particular state, and that Isaac should be
the son of Abraham, as that Gabriel should be
an Angel, and Isaac a man.
The Scriptures assure us, that it was by di
vine appointment, that our blessed Saviour was
born at Bethlehem^ and at such a time. Now
altho' it was owing to the dignity of his per
son, and the great importance of his birth,
that thus much of the divine counsel was de
clared to the world concerning the time and
manner of it ; yet we are as sure from the
same Scriptures, that the time and manner of
every man's coming into the world, is accord
ing to some eternal purposes and direction of
Divine
to a Devout and Holy Life 451
Divine Providence, and in such time, and place,
and circumstances, as are directed and governed
by God for particular ends of his wisdom and
goodness.
This we are as certain of from plain revela
tion, as we can be of any thing: For if we
are told, that not a sparrow falleth to the
ground 'without our heavenly Father ; can any
thing more strongly teach us, that much greater
beings, such as human souls, come not into
the world without the care and direction of our
heavenly Father ? If it is said, the very hairs
of your head are all number V/; is it not to
teach us, that nothing, not the smallest things
imaginable, happen to us by chance ? But if
the smallest things we can conceive, are declar'd
to be under the divine direction, need we, or
can we be more plainly taught, that the great
est things of life, such as the manner of our
coming into the world, our pcrents, the time,
and other circumstances of our birth and con
dition, are all according to the eternal purposes,
direction and appointment of Divine Provi
dence ?
When the disciples put this question to our
blessed Lord concerning the blind man, saying,
Master, ewho did sin, this man, or his parents,
that he iuas born blind ? He that was the eter
nal Wisdom of God made this answer, Neither
hath this man sinned, nor his pa- .
ill 7 r r^i /John IX. 2, 3.
rents ; but that the works oj Lroa
should be made manifest in him. Plainly decla
ring, that the particular circumstances of every
452 A Serious CALL
man's birth, the body that he receives, and
the condition and state of life into which he is
born, are appointed by a secret Providence,
which directs all things to their particular times
and seasons, and manner of existence, that the
wisdom and works of God may be made ma
nifest in them all.
As therefore it is thus certain, that we are
what we are, as to birth, time, and condition
of entring into the world ; since all that is
particular in our state, is the eifect of God's
particular providence over us, and intended for
some particular ends both of his glory and our
own happiness, we are by the greatest obliga
tions of gratitude, called upon to conform and
resign our will to the will of God in all these
respects ; thankfully approving and accepting
every thing that is particular in our state.
Praising and glorifying his name for our birth
of such parents, and in such circumstances of
state and condition ; being fully assur'd, that
it was for some reasons of infinite wisdom and
goodness, that we were so born into such par
ticular states of life.
If the man above-mention'd, was born
blind, that the 'works of God might be mani
fested in him, had he not great reason to praise
God, for appointing him in such a particular
manner, to be the instrument of his Glory ?
And if one person is born here, and another
there ; if one falls amongst riches, and ano
ther into poverty ; if one receives his flesh
and blood from these parents, and another
from
to a Devout and Holy Life 453
from those, for as particular ends, as the man
was born blind ; have not all people the great
est reason to bless God, and to be thankful for
their particular state and condition^ because all
that is particular in it, is as directly intended
for the glory of God, and their own good, as
the particular blindness of that man, who was
so born, that the works of God might be mani
fested in him ?
How noble an idea does this give us of the
divine Omniscience presiding over the whole
world, and governing such a long chain and
combination of seeming accidents and chan
ces, to the common and particular advantage
of all beings ? So that all persons, in such a
wonderful variety of causes, accidents and
events, should all fall into such particular
states, as were foreseen, and fore-ordain'd to
their best advantage, and so as to be most ser
viceable to the wise and glorious ends of God's
government of all the world.
Had you been any thing else than what
you are, you had, all things considered, been
less wisely provided for than you are now ;
you had wanted some circumstances and con
ditions, that are best fitted to make you
happy your, self, and serviceable to the glory
of God.
Could you see all that which God sees, all
that happy chain of causes and motives which
are to move and invite you to a right course
of life, you would see something to make
you
454 ^ Sert°us CALL
you like that state you are in, as fitter for you
than any other.
But as you cannot see this, so it is here
that your Christian faith and trust in God, is
to exercise it self, and render you as grateful
and thankful for the happiness of your state,
as if you saw every thing that contributes to
it with your own eyes.
But now if this is the case of every man in
the world, thus blessed with some particular
state that is most convenient for him, how
reasonable is it for every man to will that
which God has already will'd for him ? And
by a pious faith and trust in the divine good
ness, thankfully adore and magnify that wise
providence, which he is sure has made the
best choice for him of those things, which he
could not chuse for himself.
Every uneasiness at our own state, is found
ed upon comparing it with that of other peo
ple. Which is full as unreasonable, as if a
man in a dropsy should be angry at those that
prescribe different things to him, from those
which are prescrib'd to people in health. For
all the different states of life are like the diffe
rent states of diseares, what is a remedy to
one man in his state, may be poison to
another.
So that to murmur because you are not as
some others are, is as if a man in one disease
should murmur that he is not treated like
him that is in another. Whereas if he was to
have
to a Devout and Holy Life 455
have his will, he would be kill'd by that,
which will prove the cure of another.
It is just thus in the various conditions of
life ; if you give your self up to uneasiness,
or complain at any thing in your state, you
may, for ought you know, be so ungrateful
to God, as to murmur at that very thing,
which is to prove the cause of your salva
tion.
Had you it in your power to get that
which you think it so grievous to want, it
might perhaps be that very thing, which of
all others, would most expose you to eternal
damnation.
So that whether we consider the infinite
goodness of God, that cannot chuse amiss for
us, or our own great ignorance of what is
most advantageous to us, there can be no
thing so reasonable and pious, as to have no
will but that of God's, and desire nothing for
our selves, in our persons, our state, and con-
ditlotij but that which the good providence of
God appoints us.
Farther, as the good providence of God
thus introduces us into the world, into such
states and conditions of life, as are most con
venient for us, so the same unerring wisdom
orders all events and changes in the whole
course of our lives, in such a manner, as to
render them the fittest means to exercise and
improve our virtue.
Nothing
456 A Serious CALL
Nothing hurts us, nothing destroys us, but
the ill use of that liberty, with which God
has entrusted us.
We are as sure that nothing happens to us
by chance, as that the world it self was not
made by chance ; we are as certain that all
things happen, and work together for our
good, as that God is goodness it self. So that
a man has as much reason to 'will every thing
that happens to him, because God wills it, as
to think that is wisest, which is directed by
infinite wisdom.
This is not cheating or soothing our selves
into any false content, or imaginary happi
ness ; but is a satisfaction grounded upon as
great a certainty, as the being and attributes
of God.
For if we are right in believing God to act
over us with infinite wisdom and goodness,
we cannot carry our notions of conformity
and resignation to the divine will too high ;
nor can we ever be deceiv'd, by thinking that
to be best for us, which God has brought up
on us.
For the providence of God is not more con-
cern'd in the government of night and day,
and the variety of seasons, than in the com
mon course of events, that seem most to de
pend upon the mere wills of men. So that it
is as strictly right, to look upon all worldly
accidents and changes, all the various turns
and alterations in your own life, to be as truly
the effects of Divine Providence, as the rising
and
to a Devout and Holy Life 457
and setting of the Sun, or the alterations of
the seasons of the year. As you are therefore
always to adore the wisdom of God in the di
rection of these things ; so it is the same rea
sonable duty, always to magnify God, as an
equal Director of every thing that happens to
you in the course of your own life.
This holy resignation and conformity of
your will to the will of God, being so much
the true state of piety, I hope you will think
it proper to make this hour of prayer, a con
stant season of applying to God for so great
a gift. That by thus constantly praying for
it, your heart may be habitually disposed to
wards it, and always in a state of readiness to
look at every thing as God's, and'to consider
him in every thing ; that so every thing that
befals you, may be receiv'd in the spirit of
piety, and made a means of exercising some
virtue.
There is nothing that so powerfully governs
the heart, that so strongly excites us to wise
and reasonable actions, as a true sense of God's
presence. But as we cannot see, or apprehend
the essence of God, so nothing will so con
stantly keep us under a lively sense of the
presence of God, Ss this holy resignation,
which attributes every thing to him, and re
ceives every thing as from him.
Could we see a miracle from God, how
would our thoughts be affected with an holy
awe and veneration of his presence ! But if
we consider every thing as God's doing, either
by
45 8 A Serious CALL
by order or permission, we shall then be af
fected with common things, as they would be
who saw a miracle.
For as there is nothing to affect you in a
miracle, but as it is the action of God, and
bespeaks his presence ; so whe;i you consider
God, as acting in all things, and all events,
then all things will become venerable to you,
like miracles, and fill you with the same aw
ful sentiments of the divine presence.
Now you must not reserve the exercise of
this pious temper, to any particular times or
occasions, or fancy how resign d you will be to
God, if such or such trial should happen.
For this is amusing your self with the notion
or idea of resignation, instead of the virtue
it self.
Don't therefore please your self with think
ing, how piously you would act and submit
to God in a plague, a famine, or persecution,
but be intent upon the perfection of the
present day ; and be assur'd, that the best
way of shewing a true zeal, is to make little
things the occasions of great piety.
Begin therefore in the smallest matters,
and most ordinary occasions, and accustom
your mind to the daily exercise of this pious
temper, in the lowest occurrences of life. And
when a contempt, an affront, a little injury,
loss, or disappointment, or the smallest events
of every day, continually raise your mind to
God in proper acts of resignation, then you
may justly hope, that you shall be number'd
amongst
to a Devout and Holy Life 459
amongst those that are resign'd and thankful
to God in the greatest trials and afflictions.
CHAP. XXIII
Of Evening prayer. Of the nature and necessity of
examination . Ho <w ive are to be particular in
the confession of all our sins. Ho<w ewe are
to jill our minds with a just horror and dread
of all sin
T AM now come to six o'clock in the even-
-•• ing, which according to the Scripture ac
count, is call'd the twelfth, or last hour of
the day. This is a time so proper for Devo
tion, that I suppose nothing need be said to
recommend it as a season of prayer, to all
people that profess any regard to piety.
As the labour and action of every state of
life is generally over at this hour, so this is
the proper time for every one to call himself
to account, and review all his behaviour, from
the first action of the day. The necessity of
this examination, is founded upon the neces
sity of repentance. For if it be necessary to
repent of all our sins, if the guilt of unre-
pented sins still continues upon us, then it is
necessary, not only that all our sins, but the
particular circumstances and aggravations of
them
460 A Serious CALL
them, be known and recollected, and brought
to repentance.
The Scripture saith, If ive confess our sins,
he is faithful and just to forgive us
i John i. 9. • j i J r 77
our sins, and to cleanse us jrom all
unrighteousness. Which is as much as to say,
that then only our sins are forgiven, and we
cleans'd from the guilt and unrighteousness of
them, when they are thus confess'd, and re
pented of.
There seems therefore to be the greatest ne
cessity, that all our daily actions be constant
ly observ'd, and brought to account, lest by a
negligence we load our selves with the guilt of
unrepented sins.
This examination therefore of ourselves
every evening, is not only to be consider'd as
a commendable ru/e, and fit for a wise man to
observe, but as something that is as necessary
as a daily confession and repentance of our
sins ; because this daily repentance is of very
little significancy, and loses all its chief bene
fits, unless it be a particular confession and re
pentance of the sins of that day. This exami
nation is necessary to repentance in the same
manner as time is necessary ; you cannot re
pent or express your sorrow, unless you allow
some time for it ; nor can you repent, but so
far as you knonv what it is that you are repent
ing of. So that when it is said, that it is ne
cessary to examine and call your actions to ac
count; it is only saying, that it is necessary
to
to a Devout and Holy Life 46 1
to know what, and how many things you are
to repent of.
You perhaps have hitherto only used your
self to confess yourself a sinner in general, and
ask forgiveness in the gross, without any par
ticular remembrance, or contrition for the par
ticular sins of that day. And by this practice
you are brought to believe, that the same
short, general form of confession of sin in ge
neral, is a sufficient repentance for every day.
Suppose another person should hold, that a
confession of our sins in general once at the end
of every week was sufficient ; and that it was
as well to confess the sins of seven days all to
gether,- as to have a particular repentance at
the end of every day.
I know you sufficiently see the unreasonable
ness and impiety of this opinion, and that you
think it is easy enough to shew the danger and
folly of it.
Yet you cannot bring one argument against
such an opinion, but what will be as good an
argument against such a daily repentance, as
does not call the particular sins of that day to
a strict account.
For as you can bring no express text of Scrip
ture against such an opinion, but must take
all your arguments from the nature of repen
tance, and the necessity of a particular repen
tance for particular sins, so every argument of
that kind, must as fully prove the necessity of
being very particular in our repentance of the
sins of every day. Since nothing can be justly
said
462
A Serious CALL
said against leaving the sins of the whole week
to be repented for in the gross, but what may
as justly be said against a daily repentance,
which considers the sins of that day only in
the gross.
Would you tell such a man, that a daily
confession was necessary to keep up an abhor
rence of sin, that the mind would grow har-
den'd and senseless of the guilt of sin without
it ? And is not this as good a reason for requir
ing that your daily repentance be very express
and particular for your daily sins ? For if con
fession is to raise an abhorrence of sin, surely
that confession which considers and lays open
your particular sins, that brings them to light
with all their circumstances and aggravations,
that requires a particular sorrowful acknow
ledgment of every sin, must in a much greater
degree fill the mind with an abhorrence of
sin, than that which only in one and the same
form of words confesses you only to be a sinner
in general. For as this is nothing but what the
greatest Saint may justly say of himself, so the
daily repeating of only such a confession, has
nothing in it to make you truly ashamed of
your own way of life.
Again ; must you not tell such a man, that
by leaving himself to such a weekly, general
confession, he would be in great danger of for
getting a great many of his sins ? But is there
any sense or force in this argument, unless you
suppose that our sins are all to be remember'd,
and brought to a particular repentance ? And
to a Devout and Holy Life 463
is it not as necessary, that our particular sins be
not forgotten, but particularly remember'd in
our daily, as in a repentance at any other
time ?
So that every argument for a daily confes
sion and repentance, is the same argument for
the confession and repentance of \\\e particular
sins of every day.
Because daily confession has no other reason
or necessity, but our daily sins ; and therefore
is nothing of what it should be, but so far as
it is a repentance and sorrowful acknowledg
ment of the sins of the day.
You would, I suppose, think yourself
chargeable with great impiety, if you was to
go to bed without confessing yourself to be a
sinner, and asking pardon of God ; you would
not think it sufficient that you did so yester
day. And yet if without any regard to the
present day, you only repeat the same form
of words that you used yesterday, the sins of
the present day may justly be looked upon to
have had no repentance. For if the sins of
the present day require a new confession, it
must be such a new confession as is proper to
itself. For it is the state and condition of eve
ry day, that is to determine the state and man
ner of your repentance in the evening ; other
wise the same general form of words is rather
an emptv formality, that has the appearance
of a duty, than such a true performance of it,
as is necessary to make it truly useful to you.
2 G
Let
464 A Serious CALL
Let it be supposed, that on a certain day
you have been guilty of these sins ; that you
have told a vain lye upon yourself, ascribing
something falsely to yourself through pride ;
that you have been guilty of detraction, and
indulg'd yourself in some degree of intempe
rance. Let it be supposed, that on the next
day you have lived in a contrary manner ; that
you have neglected no duty of devotion, and
been the rest of the day innocently employ'd
in your proper business. Let it be supposed,
that on the evening of both these days you
only use the same confession in general, consi
dering it rather as a duty that is to be per-
form'd every night, than as a repentance that
is to be suited to the particular state of the
day.
Can it with any reason be said, that each
day has had its proper repentance ? Is it not
as good sense to say, there is no difference in
the guilt of these days, as to say that there
need be no different repentance at the end of
them ? Or how can each of them have its pro
per repentance, but by its having a repentance
as large and extensive, and particular, as the
guilt of each day ?
Again, let it be suppos'd, that in that day,
when you had been guilty of the three noto
rious sins above-mention'd, that in your even
ing repentance, you had only calPd one of
them to mind. Is it not plain, that the other
two are unrepented of, and that therefore
their guilt still abides upon you ? So that
you
to a Devout and Holy Life 465
you are then in the state of him, who com
mits himself to the night without the repen
tance for such a day, as had betray'd him
into two such great sins.
Now these are not needless particulars, or
such scrupulous niceties, as a man need not
trouble himself about ; but are such plain
truths, as essentially concern the very life of
piety. For if repentance is necessary, it is full
as necessary that it be rightly performed, and
in due manner.
And I have enter'd into all these particulars,
only to show you in the plainest manner, that
examination, and a careful review of all the
actions of the day, is not only to be looked
upon as a good rule, but as something as ne
cessary as repentance itself.
If a man is to account for his expences at
night, can it be thought a needless exactness
in him, to take notice of every particular ex-
pence in the day ?
And if a man is to repent of his sins at
night, can it be thought too great a piece of
scrupulosity in him, to know and call to mind
what sins he is to repent of?
Farther ; tho' it should be granted, that a
confession \n general may be a sufficient repen
tance for the end of such days, as have only
the unavoidable frailties of our nature to la
ment ; yet even this fully proves the absolute
necessity of this self-examination : for with
out this examination, who can know that he
has gone thro' any day in this manner ?
Again
466
A Serious CALL
Again ; An evening repentance, which thus
brings all the actions of the day to account, is
not only necessary to wipe off the guilt of
sin, but is also the most certain way to amend
and perfect our lives.
For it is only such a repentance as this, that
touches the heart, awakens the conscience,
and leaves an horror and detestation of sin
upon the mind.
For instance : If it should happen, that up
on any particular evening, all that you could
charge yourself with should be this, viz. a
hasty, negligent performance of your devotions,
or too much time spent in an impertinent con
versation ; if the unreasonableness of these
things were fully reflected upon, and acknow-
ledg'd ; if you was then to condemn yourself
before God for them, and implore his pardon
and assisting grace, what could be so likely a
means to prevent your falling into the same
faults the next day ?
Or if you should fall into them again the
next day ; yet if they were again brought to
the same examination and condemnation in
the presence of God, their happening again
would be such a proof to you of your own
folly and weakness, would cause such a pain and
remorse in your mind, and fill you with such
shame and confusion at yourself, as would in all
probability make you exceedingly desirous of
greater perfection.
Now in the case of repeated sins, this
would be the certain benefit that we should
to a Devout and Holy Life 467
receive from this examination and confession ;
the mind would thereby be made humble,
full of sorrow and deep compunction, and by
degrees forced into amendment.
Whereas a formal^ general confession, that
is only consider 'd as an evening duty, that
overlooks the particular mistakes of the day,
and is the same whether the day be spent ill
or well, has little or no effect upon the mind ;
a man may use such a daily confession, and yet
go on sinning and confessing all his life, with
out any remorse of mind, or true desire of
amendment.
For if your own particular sins are left out
of your confession, your confessing of sin in
general has no more effect upon your mind,
than if you had only confessed, that all men
in general are sinners. And there is nothing
in any confession to shew that it is yours, but
so far as it is a self-accusation^ not of sin in
general, or such as is common to all others,
but of such particular sins, as are your own
proper shame and reproach.
No other confession, but such as thus disco
vers and accuses your own particular guilt,
can be an act of true sorrow, or real concern
at your own condition. And a confession that
is without this sorrow and compunction of
heart, has nothing in it either to atone for
past sins, or to produce in us any true refor
mation and amendment of life.
To proceed ; in order to make this exami
nation still farther beneficial, every man should
oblige
468 A Serious CALL
oblige himself to a certain method in it. As
every man has something particular in his na
ture, stronger inclinations to some vices than
others, some infirmities that stick closer to
him, and are harder to be conquer'd than
others ; and as it is as easy for every man to
know this of himself, as to know whom he
likes or dislikes ; so it is highly necessary,
that these particularities of our natures and
tempers should never escape a severe trial at
our evening repentance : I say, a severe trial,
because nothing but a rigorous severity against
these natural tempers, is sufficient to conquer
them.
They are the right eyes, that are not to be
spared ; but to be plucked out and cast from
us. For as they are the infirmities of nature,
so they have the strength of nature, and must
be treated with great opposition, or they will
soon be too strong for us.
He therefore who knows himself most of
all subject to anger and passion, must be very
exact and constant in his examination of this
temper every evening. He must find out
every slip that he has made of that kind,
whether in thought, or word, or action ; he
must shame, and reproach, and accuse himself
before God, for every thing that he has said
or done in obedience to his passion. He must
no more allow himself to forget the examina
tion of this temper, than to forget his whole
prayers.
Again
to a Devout and Holy Life 469
Again ; if you find that vanity is your pre
vailing temper, that is always putting you
upon the adornment of your person, and catch
ing after every thing that compliments orjfat-
ters your abilities, never spare or forget this
temper in your evening examination ; but con
fess to God every vanity of thought, or word, or
action, that you have been guilty of, and put
your self to all the shame and confusion for it
that you can.
In this manner should all people act with
regard to their chief frailty, to which their na
ture most inclines them. And though it
should not immediately do all that they would
wish, yet by a constant practice it would cer
tainly in a short time produce its desir'd
effect.
Farther ; as all states and employments of
life have their particular dangers and tempta
tions, and expose people more to some sins
than others, so every man that wishes his
own improvement, should make it a necessary
part of his evening examination, to consider
how he has avoided, or fallen into such sins as
are most common to his state of life.
For as our business and condition of life
has great power over us, so nothing but such
watchfulness as this, can secure us from those
temptations to which it daily exposes us.
The poor man, from his condition of life,
is always in danger of repining and uneasiness ;
the rich man is most expos'd to sensuality and
indulgence ; the tradesman to lying and unrea
sonable
47° ^ Serious CALL
sonable gains ; the scholar to pride and vanity ;
so that in every state of life, a man should al
ways, in his examination of himself, have a
strict eye upon those faults, to which his state
of life most of all exposes him.
Again ; as it is reasonable to suppose, that
every good man has enter 'd into, or at least
proposed to himself some method of holy living,
and set himself some such rules to observe, as
are not common to other people, and only
known to himself; so it should be a constant
part of his night recollection, to examine
how, and in what degree, he has observ'd
them, and to reproach himself before God, for
every neglect of them.
By rules, I here mean, such rules as relate
to the well-ordering of our time, and the busi
ness of our common life. Such rules as pre
scribe a certain order to all that we are to do,
our business, devotion, mortifications, readings,
retirements, conversation, meals, refreshments,
sleep, and the like.
Now as good rules relating to all these
things, are certain means of great improve
ment, and such as all serious Christians must
needs propose to themselves, so they will
hardly ever be observ'd to any purpose, unless
they are made the constant subject of our even
ing examination.
Lastly, You are not to content your self
with a^ hasty general review of the day, but
you must enter upon it with deliberation ;
begin
to a Devout and Holy Life 47 1
begin with the Jirst action of the day, and
proceed step by step, through every particular
matter that you have been concern'd in, and
so let no time, place, or action be over-
look'd.
An examination thus managed, will in a
little time make you as different from your
self, as a wise man is different from an ideot.
It will give you such a newness of mind, such
a spirit of wisdom, and desire of perfec
tion, as you was an entire stranger to be
fore.
Thus much concerning the evening exami
nation.
I proceed now to lay before you such con
siderations, as may fill your mind with a just
dread and horror of all sin, and help you to
confess your own in the most passionate con
trition, and sorrow of heart.
Consider first, how odious all sin is to God,
what a mighty baseness it is, and how abo
minable it renders sinners in the sight of God.
That it is sin alone that makes the great dif
ference betwixt an angel, and the devil ; and
that every sinner is, so far as he sins, a friend
of the devil's, and carrying on his work a-
gainst God. That sin is a greater blemish
and defilement of the soul, than any filth or dis
ease is a defilement of the body. And to be
content to live in sin, is a much greater base
ness, than to desire to wallow in the mire, or
love any bodily impurity.
Con-
47 2 d Serious CALL
Consider how you must abhor a creature
that delighted in nothing but filth and nasti-
ness, that hated every thing that was decent
and clean ; and let this teach you to appre
hend, how odious that soul that delights in
nothing but the impurity of sin, must appear
unto God.
For all sins, whether of sensuality, pride,
or falseness, or any other irregular passion, are
nothing else. but the filth, and impure diseases
of the rational soul. And all righteousness
is nothing else but the purity, the decency, the
beauty and perfection of that spirit, which is
made in the image of God.
Again ; learn what horror you ought to
have for the guilt of sin, from the greatness
of that attonement which has been made for
it.
God made the world by the breath of his
mouth, by a word speaking ; but the redemp
tion of the world has been a work of longer
labour.
How easily God can create beings, we learn
from the first chapter of Genesis ; but how dif
ficult it is for infinite mercy to forgive sins,
we learn from that, costly attonement, those
bloody sacrifices, those pains and penances, those
sicknesses and deaths, which all must be under
gone, before the guilty sinner is fit to appear
in the presence of God.
Ponder these great truths : That the Son of
God was forc'd to become man, to be parta
ker of all our infirmities ; to undergo a poor,
pain-
to a Devout and Holy Life 473
painful, miserable, and contemptible life, to
be persecuted, hated, and at last nail'd to a
Cross, that by such sufferings he might ren
der God propitious to that nature in which
he suffer 'd.
That all the bloody sacrifices and attone-
ments of the Jewish Law, were to represent
the necessity of this. great sacrifice, and the
great displeasure God. bore to sinners.
That the world is still under the curse of
sin, and certain marks of God's displeasure at
it ; such as famines, plagues, tempests, sickness,
diseases and death.
Consider that all the sons of Adam are to
go through a painful, sickly life, denying and
mortifying their natural appetites, and cru
cifying the lusts of the flesh, in order to have
a share in the attonement of our Saviour's
death.
That all their penances and self-denials, all
their tears and repentance, are only made
available by that great Intercession, which is
still making for them at the right hand of
God.
Consider these great truths ; that this myste
rious redemption, all these sacrifices and suffer
ings, both of God and man, are only to re
move the guilt of sin ; and then let this teach
you with what tears and contrition, you
ought to purge your self from it.
After this general consideration of the guilt
of sin, which has done so much mischief to
your nature, and expos'd it to so great pu
nishment
474 ^ Serious CALL
nishment, and made it so odious to God, that
nothing less than so great an attonement of
the Son of God, and so great repentance of
our own, can restore us to the divine fa
vour :
Consider next your own particular share in
the guilt of sin. And if you would know
with what zeal you ought to repent your self,
consider how you would exhort another sinner
to repentance ; and what repentance and
amendment you would expect from him,
whom you judg'd to be the greatest sinner in
the world.
Now this case every man may justly reckon
to be his own. And you may fairly look up
on your self to be the greatest sinner that you
know in the world.
For though you may know abundance of
people to be guilty of some gross sins, with
which you cannot charge your self, yet you
may justly condemn your self, as the greatest
sinner that you know. And that for these
following reasons :
First, Because you know more of the folly
of your own heart, than you do of other peo
ples ; and can charge your self with various
sins, that you only know of your self, and
cannot be sure that other sinners are guilty of
them. So that as you know more of the fol
ly, the baseness, the pride, the deceit fulness
and negligence of your own heart, than you
do of any one's else, so you have just reason
to
to a Devout and Holy Life 475
to consider your self as the greatest sinner that
you know : Because you know more of the
greatness of your own sins, than you do of
other peoples.
Secondly, The greatness of our guilt arises
chierly from the greatness of God's goodness
towards us, from the particular graces and
blessings, the favours, the lights and instruc
tions that we have receiv'd from him.
Now as these graces and blessings, and the
multitude of God's favours towards us, are
the great aggravations of our sins against God,
so they are only known to our selves. And
therefore every sinner knows more of the aggra
vations of his own guilt, than he does of
other peoples ; and consequently may justly
look upon himself to be the greatest sinner
that he knows.
How good God has been to other sinners,
what light and instruction he has vouchsaf'd
to them ; what blessings and graces they have
receiv'd from him ; how often he has touch 'd
their hearts with holy inspirations, you can
not tell. But all this you know of your self,
therefore you know greater aggravations of your
own guilt, and are able to charge your self
with greater ingratitude than you can charge
upon other people.
And this is the reason, why the greatest
saints have in all ages condemn'd themselves
as the greatest sinners, because they knew
some
476
A Serious CALL
some aggravations of their own sins, which
they could not know of other peoples.
The right way therefore to fill your heart
with true contrition, and a deep sense of your
own sins, is this : You are not to consider,
or compare the outward form, or course of your
life, with that of other peoples, and then think
your self to be less sinful than they, because
the outward course of your life is less sinful
than theirs.
But in order to know your own guilt, you
must consider your own particular circumstan
ces, your health, your sickness, your youth, or
age, your particular calling, the happiness of
your education, the degrees of light and in
struction that you have receiv'd, the good men
that you have convers'd with, the admoni
tions that you have had, the good books that
you have read, the numberless multitude of
divine blessings, graces and favours that you
have receiv'd, the good motions of grace that
you have resisted, the resolutions of amend
ment that you have often broken, and the
checks of conscience that you have disre
garded.
For it is from these circumstances, that
every one is to state the measure and greatness
of his own guilt. And as you know only
these circumstances of your own sins, so you
must necessarily know how to charge your
self with higher degrees of guilt, than you
can charge upon other people.
God
to a Devout and Holy Life 477
God Almighty knows greater sinners, it
may be, than you are ; because he sees and
knows the circumstances of all mens sins : But
your own heart, if it is faithful to you, can
discover no guilt so great as your own ; because
it can only see in you those circumstances, on
which great part of the guilt of sin is found
ed.
You may see sins in other people, that you
cannot charge upon yourself; but then you
know a number of circumstances of your own
guilt, that you cannot lay to their charge.
And perhaps that person that appears at
such a distance from your virtue, and so odi
ous in your eyes, would have been much bet
ter than you are, had he been altogether in
your circumstances, and received all the same
favours and graces from God that you have.
This is a very humbling reflection, and very
proper for those people to make, who measure
their virtue, by comparing the outward course
of their lives with that of other peoples.
For look at whom you will, however diffe
rent from you in his way of life, yet you can
never know that he has resisted so much divine
grace as you have ; or that in all your circum
stances, he would not have been much truer to
his duty than you are.
Now this is the reason why I desir'd you
to consider, how you would exhort that man
to confess and bewail his sins, whom you
look'd upon to be one of the greatest sinners.
Because
478
A Serious CALL
Because if you will deal justly, you must
fix the charge at home, and look no farther
than yourself. For God has given no one any
power of knowing the true greatness of any
sins, but his own : and therefore the greatest
sinner that every one knows, is himself.
You may easily see how such a one in the
outward course of his life breaks the laws of
God ; but then you can never say, that had
you been exactly in all his circumstances, that
you should not have broken them more than
he has done.
A serious and frequent reflection upon these
things, will mightily tend to humble us in
our own eyes, make us very apprehensive of
the greatness of our own guilt, and very
tender in censuring and condemning other
people.
For who would dare to be severe against
other people, when for ought he can tell, the
severity of God may be more due to him,
than to them ? Who would exclaim against the
guilt of others, when he considers that he
knows more of the greatness of his own guilt,
than he does of theirs ?
How often you have resisted God's holy Spi
rit ; how many motives to goodness you have
disregarded ; how many particular blessings
you have sinn'd against ; how many good reso
lutions you have broken ; how many checks
and admonitions of conscience you have stifled,
you very well know : But how often this has
been the case of other sinners, you know not.
And
to a Devout and Holy Life 479
And therefore the greatest sinner that you
know, must be yourself.
Whenever therefore you are angry at sin or
sinners, whenever you read or think of God's
indignation and wrath at wicked men, let
this teach you to be the most severe in your
censure, and most humble and contrite in the
acknowledgment and confession of your own
sins, because you know of no sinner equal to
yourself.
Lastly, to conclude this chapter : Having
thus examin'd and confess'd your sins at this
hour of the evening, you must afterwards
look upon yourself, as still oblig'd to betake
yourself to prayer again just before you go to
bed.
The subject that is most proper for your
prayers at that time, is death. Let your
prayers therefore then be wholly upon it, rec
koning up all the dangers, uncertainties, and
terrors of death ; let them contain every thing
that can affect and awaken your mind into just
apprehensions of it. Let your petitions be all
for right sentiments of the approach and impor
tance of death ; and beg of God, that your
mind may be possessed with such a sense of its
nearness, that you may have it always in your
thoughts, do every thing as in sight of it,
and make every day, a day for preparation for
it.
Represent to your imagination, that your
bed is your grave ; that all things are ready for
2 H your
480
A Serious CALL
your interment ; that you are to have no more
to do with this world ; and that it will be ow
ing to God's great mercy, if you ever see the
light of the Sun again, or have another day
to add to your works of piety.
And then commit yourself to sleep, as into
the hands of God ; as one that is to have no
more opportunities of doing good ; but is to
awake amongst spirits that are separate from
the body, and waiting for the judgment of the
last great day.
Such a solemn resignation of yourself into
the hands of God every evening, and parting
with all the world, as if you was never to see
it any more, and all this in the silence and
darkness of the night, is a practice that will
soon have excellent effects upon your spirit.
For this time of the night is exceeding pro
per for such prayers and meditations ; and the
likeness which sleep and darkness have to death,
will contribute very much to make your
thoughts about it the more deep and affecting.
So that I hope you will not let a time, so pro
per for such prayers, be ever passed over with
out them.
CHAP.
to a Devout and Holy Life 48 i
CHAP. XXIV
The Conclusion. Of the Excellency and Great
ness of a devout Spirit
HAVE now finijh'd what I intended in
this Treatise. ' I have explain'd the nature
I
of devotion, both as it signifies a life devoted
to God, and as it signifies a regular method of
daily prayer. I have now only to add a word
or two in recommendation of a life governed
by this spirit of devotion.
For though it is as reasonable to suppose it
the desire of all Christians to arrive at Christi
an Perfection, as to suppose, that all sick men
desire to be restor'd to perfect health ; yet ex
perience shews us, that nothing wants more
to be press'd, repeated, and forc'd upon our
minds, than the plainest rules of Christianity.
Voluntary poverty, virginity, and devout re
tirement, have been here recommended, as
things not necessary, yet highly beneficial to
those that would make the way to perfection
the most easy and certain. But Christian per
fection itself is ty'd to no particular form of
life ; but is to be attained, tho' not with the
same ease, in every state of life.
This has been fully asserted in another place;
where it has been shewn, that Christian per
fection calls no one (necessarily) to a Cloy ster, but
to thefull performance of those du- Christ. Perfect.
ties, 'which are necessary for all p. 2.
Christians, and common to all states oj* life.
So
482 A Serious CALL
So that the whole of the matter is plainly
this : Virginity i voluntary poverty, and such
other restraints of /awful things, are not ne
cessary to Christian perfection ; but are much
to be commended in those, who chuse them
as helps and means of a more safe and speedy ar
rival at it.
It is only in this manner, and in this sense,
that I would recommend any particularity of
life ; not as if perfection consisted in it, but
because of its great tendency to produce and
support the true spirit of Christian perfection.
But the thing which is here press'd upon all,
is, a life of great and strict devotion ; which,
I think, has been sufficiently shewn to be
equally the duty and happiness of all orders of
men. Neither is there any thing in any par
ticular state of life, that can be justly pleaded
as a reason for any abatements of a devout
spirit.
But because in this polite age of ours, we
have so li<v d away the spirit of devotion, that
many seem afraid even to be suspected of it,
imagining great devotion to be great bigotry ;
that it is founded in ignorance and poorness of
spirit, and that /;///<?, weak, and dejected minds,
are generally the greatest proficients in it :
It shall here be fully shewn, that great de
votion is the noblest temper of the greatest and
noblest souls ; and that they who think it re
ceives any advantage from ignorance and poor
ness of spirit, are themselves not a little, but
entirely ignorant of the nature of devotion,
the
to a Devout and Holy Life 483
the nature of God, and the nature of them
selves.
People vtjine parts and learning, or of great
knowledge in worldly matters, may perhaps
think it hard to have their want of 'devotion
charged upon their ignorance. But if they
will be content to be try'd by Reason and Scri
pture, it may soon be made appear, that a
want of devotion, where-ever it is, either a-
mongst the learned or unlearned, is founded in
gross ignorance, and the greatest blindness and
insensibility that can happen to a rational crea
ture.
And that devotion is so far from being the
effect of a little and dejected mind, that it must
and will be always highest in the most perfect
natures.
And^rj-/, Who reckons it a sign of a poor,
little mind, for a man to be full of reverence
and duty to his parents, to have the truest love
and honour for his friend, or to excel in the
highest instances of gratitude to his benefactor ?
Are not these tempers in the highest degree
in the most exalted and perfect minds ?
And yet what is high devotion, but the
highest exercise of these tempers, of duty, re
verence, love, honour, and gratitude to the
amiable, glorious parent, friend, and bene
factor of all mankind ?
Is it a true greatness of mind, to reverence
the authority of your patents, to fear the dis
pleasure of your friend, to dread the reproaches
of your benefactor ? and must not this fear,
and
484 A Serious CALL
and dread, and reverence, be much more just,
and reasonable, and honourable, when they
ar.e in the highest degree towards God ?
Now as the higher these tempers are, the
more are they esteem'd amongst men, and are
allow'd to be so much the greater proofs of a
true greatness of mind ; so the higher and
greater these same tempers are towards God, so
much the more do they prove the- nobility, ex
cellence, and greatness of the mind.
So that so long as duty to parents, love to
friends, and gratitude to benefactors, are thought
great and honourable tempers ; devotion, which
is nothing else but duty, love, and gratitude
to God, must have the highest place amongst
our highest virtues.
If a Prince out of his mere goodness should
send you a pardon by one of his slaves, would
you think it a part of your duty to receive the
slave with marks of love, esteem, and gratitude
for his great kindness, in bringing you so great
a gift ; and at the same time think it a mean
ness and poorness of spirit, to shew love, esteem
and gratitude to the Prince, who of his own
goodness freely sent you the pardon ?
And yet this would be as reasonable, as to
suppose, that love, esteem, honour, and gra
titude, are noble tempers, and instances of a
great soul, when they are paid to our fellow-
creatures ; but the effects of a poor, ignorant,
dejected mind, when they are paid to God.
Farther ; that part of devotion which ex
presses itself in sorroivful confessions, andpeni-
tential
to a Devout and Holy Life 485
tentlal tears of a broken and a contrite heart,
is very far from being any sign of a little and
ignorant mind.
For who does not acknowledge it an in
stance of an ingenuous, generous, and brave
mind, to acknowledge a fault, and ask par
don for any offence ? And are not thejinest
and most improved minds, the most remarkable
for this excellent temper ?
Is it not also allow'd that the ingenuity and
excellence of a man's spirit is much shewn,
when his sorrow and indignation at himself
rises in proportion to the folly of his crime,
and the goodness and greatness of the person he
has offended ?
Now if things are thus, then the greater
any man's mind is, the more he knows of God
and himself, the more will he be dispos'd to
prostrate himself before God in all the humblest
acts and expressions of repentance.
And the greater the ingenuity, the genero
sity, judgment, and penetration of his mind is,
the more will he exercise and indulge a passio
nate, tender sense of God's just displeasure ;
and the more he knows of the greatness, the
goodness, and perfection of the divine nature,
the fuller of shame and confusion will he be at
his own sins and ingratitude.
And on the other hand, the more dull and
ignorant any soul is, the more base and unge
nerous it naturally is, the more senseless it is
of the goodness and purity of God, so much
the
486
A Serious CALL
the more averse will it be to all acts of humble
confession and repentance.
Devotion therefore is so far from being best
suited to little ignorant minds, that a true 'ele
vation of soul, a /ively sense of honour, and
great knowledge of God and our selves, are
the greatest natural helps that our devotion
hath.
And on the other hand, it shall here be
made appear by variety of arguments, that
indevotion is founded in the most excessive ig-
And, First, Our blessed Lord, and his
Apostles, were eminent instances of great and
frequent devotion. Now if we will grant,
(as all Christians must grant) that their great
devotion was founded in a true knowledge of
the nature of devotion, the nature of God,
and the nature of man ; then it is plain, that
all those that are insensible of the duty of de
votion, are in this excessive state of ignorance,
they neither know God, nor themselves, nor
devotion.
For if a right knowledge in these three re
spects, produces great devotion, as in the case
of our Saviour and his Apostles, then a neg
lect of devotion must be chargeable upon ig
norance.
Again ; how comes it that most people
have recourse to devotion, when they are in
sickness, distress, or fear of death ? It is not
because this state shews them more of the want
of
to a Devout and Holy Life 487
of God, and their own weakness, than they
perceive at other times ? Is it not because their
infirmities, their approaching end convinces
them of something, which they did not half
perceive before ?
Now if devotion at these seasons, is the ef
fect of a better knowledge of God, and our
selves, then the neglect of devotion at other
times, is always owing to great ignorance of
God, and our selves.
Farther ; as indevotion is ignorance, so it is
the most shameful ignorance, and such as is
to be charged with the greatest folly.
This will fully appear to any one that con
siders, by what rules we are to judge of the
excellency of any knowledge, or the shame-
fulness of any ignorance.
Now knowledge it self would be no excel
lence, nor ignorance any reproach to us, but
that we are rational creatures.
But if this be true, then it follows plainly,
that that knowledge which is most suitable to
our rational nature, and which most concerns
us, as such, to know, is our highest , finest
knowledge ; and that ignorance which relates
to things that are most essential to us, as ratio
nal creatures, and which we are most con-
cern'd to know, is, of all others, the most
gross and shameful ignorance.
If therefore there be any things that con
cern us more than others, if there be any
truths that are more to us than all others, he
that has the fullest knowledge of these things,
that
488 A Serious CALL
that sees these truths in the clearest, strongest
light, has, of all others, as a rational crea
ture, the clearest understanding, and the
strongest parts.
If therefore our relation to God be our
greatest relation, if our advancement in his
favour be our highest advancement, he that has
the highest notions of the excellence of this re
lation, he that most strongly perceives the
highest worth, and great value of holiness and
virtue, that judges every thing little, when
compar'd with it, proves himself to be master
of the best, and most excellent knowledge.
If a Judge had fine skill in painting, archi
tecture, and musick, but at the same time had
gross and confus d notions of equity, and a
poor, dull apprehension of the value of justice,
who would scruple to reckon him a poor igno
rant Judge ?
If a Bishop should be a man of great address
and skill in the arts of preferment, and un
derstanding how to raise and enrich his family
in the world, but should have no taste or sense
of the maxims and principles of the saints and
fathers of the Church ; if he did not conceive
the holy nature, and great obligations of his
calling, and judge it better to be crucify* d to
the world, than to live idly in pomp and splen
dor, who would scruple to charge such a Bi
shop with want of understanding ?
If we do not judge, and pronounce after
this manner, our reason and judgment are but
empty sounds.
But
to a Devout and Holy Life 489
But now, if a Judge is to be reckon'd igno
rant, if he does not feel and perceive the
value, and 'worth of justice ; if a Bishop is to
be look'd upon as void of understanding, if
he is more experienced in other things, than in
the exalted virtues of his Apostolical calling ;
then all common Christians are to be look'd up
on as more or less knowing, accordingly as
they know more or less of those great things,
which are the common and greatest concern of
all Christians.
If a Gentleman should fancy that the Moon
is no bigger than it appears to the eye, that it
shines with its oivn light, that all the Stars
are only so many spots of light ; if after read
ing books of Astronomy, he should still conti
nue in the same opinion, most people would
think he had but a poor apprehension.
But if the same person should think it bet
ter to provide for a short life here, than to
prepare for a glorious eternity hereafter, that it
was better to be rich, than to be eminent in
piety, his ignorance and dulness would be too
great to be compared to any thing else.
There is no knowledge that deserves so
much as the name of it, but that which we
call judgment.
And that is the most clear and improv'd
understanding, which judges best of the value
and worth of things. All the rest is but the
capacity of an animal, it is but meer seeing and
hearing.
And
490 A Serious CALL
And there is no excellence of any know
ledge in us, till we exercise our judgment, and
judge well of the value and 'worth of things.
If a man had eyes that could see beyond
the Stars, or pierce into the heart of the earth,
but could not see the things that were before
him, or discern any thing that was service
able to him, we should reckon that he had a
'very bad sight.
If another had ears that receiv'd sounds
from the world in the Moon, but could hear
nothing that was said or done upon earth, we
should look upon him to be as bad as deaf.
In like manner, if a man has a memory
that can retain a great many things ; if he
has a 'wit that is sharp and acute in arts and
sciences, or an imagination that can wander
agreeably in fictions, but has a dull, poor ap
prehension of his duty and relation to God, of
the value of piety, or the worth of moral vir
tue, he may very justly be reckon'd to have
a bad understanding. He is but like the man
that can only see and hear such things as are
of no benefit to him.
As certain therefore as piety, virtue, and
eternal happiness are of the most concern to
man, as certain as the immortality of our
nature, and relation to God, are the most glo
rious circumstances of our nature, so certain
is it, that he who dwells most in contemplation
of them, whose heart is most affected with
them; who sees farthest into them, who best
comprehends the value and excellency of them,
who
to a Devout and Holy Life 49 1
who judges all worldly attainments to be
mere bubbles and shadows, in comparison of
them, proves himself to have of all others,
\hejinest understanding, and the strongest judg
ment.
And if we don't reason after this manner,
or allow this method of reasoning, we have
no arguments to prove, that there is any such
thing as a wise man, or a fool.
For a man is prov'd to be a natural, not
because he wants any of his senses, or is inca
pable of every thing, but because he has no
judgment, and is entirely ignorant of the 'worth
and value of things, he will perhaps chuse a
jine coat, rather than a large estate.
And as the essence of stupidity consists in
the entire want of judgment, in an ignorance
of the value of things, so on the other hand,
the essence of wisdom and knowledge must
consist in the excellency of our judgment, or
in the knowledge of the worth and value of
things.
This therefore is an undeniable proof, that
he who knows most of the value of the best
things, who judges most rightly of the things
which are of most concern to him, who had
rather have his soul in a state of Christian per
fection, than the greatest share of worldly hap
piness, has the highest wisdom, and is at the
farthest distance from men that are naturals,
that any knowledge can place him.
On the other hand, he that can talk the
learned languages, and repeat a great deal of
History
492 A Serious CALL
History, but prefers the indulgence of his bo
dy to the purity and perfection of his soul,
who is more concern'd to get a name, or an
estate here, than to live in eternal glory here
after, is in the nearest estate to that natural,
who chuses a painted coat, rather than a large
estate.
He is not call'd a natural by men, but he
must appear to God, and heavenly Beings, as
in a more excessive state of stupidity, and will
sooner or later certainly appear so to himself.
But now if this be undeniably plain, that
we cannot prove a man to be a fool, but by
shewing that he has no knowledge of things
that are good and evil to himself, then it is
undeniably plain, that we cannot prove a man
to be wise, but by shewing that he has the
fullest knowledge of things that are his greatest
good, and his greatest evil.
If therefore God be our greatest good ; if
there can be no good but in his favour, nor
any evil but in departing from him, then it
is plain, that he who judges it the best thing
he can do to please God to the utmost of his
power, who worships and adores him with all
his heart and soul, who had rather have a
pious mind, than all the dignities and honours
in the world, shews himself to be in the high
est state of human wisdom.
To proceed ; we knowhow our blessed Lord
acted in an human body ; it was his meat and
drink to do the 'will of his Father 'which is in
heaven.
And
to a Devout and Holy Life 493
And if any number of heavenly spirits were
to leave their habitations in the light of God,
and be for a while united to human bodies,
they would certainly tend towards God in all
their actions, and be as heavenly as they could,
in a state of flesh and blood.
They would certainly act in this manner, be
cause they would know that God was the only
good of all spirits ; and that whether they were
in the body, or out of the body, in heaven, or
on earth, they must have every degree of their
greatness and happiness from God alone.
All human spirits therefore, the more ex
alted they are, the more they know their divine
Original, the nearer they come to heavenly
spirits, by so much the more will they live to
God in all their actions, and make their whole
life a state of devotion.
Devotion therefore is the greatest sign of a
great and noble genius, it supposes a soul in
its highest state of knowledge ; and none but
little and blinded minds that are sunk into ig-
norance and vanity, are destitute of it.
If an human spirit should imagine some
mighty Prince to be greater than God, we
should take it for a poor, ignorant creature ;
all people would acknowledge such an imagi
nation to be the height of stupidity.
But if this same human spirit should think
it better to be devoted to some mighty Prince,
than to be devoted to God, would not this
still be a greater proof of a poor, ignorant,
and blinded nature ?
Yet
494 ^ Serious CALL
Yet this is what all people do, who think
any thing better, greater, or wiser, than a de
vout life.
So that which way soever, we consider this
matter, it plainly appears, that devotion is an
instance of great judgment, of an elevated nature ;
and the want of devotion is a certain proof of
the want of understanding.
The greatest spirits of the heathen world,
such as Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Epictetus,
Marcus Antoninus, &c. ow'd all their greatness
to the spirit of devotion.
They were full of God ; their wisdom and
deep contemplations tended only to deliver
men from the vanity of the world, the slavery
of bodily passions, that they might act as spi
rits that came from God, and were soon to re
turn to him.
Again ; To see the dignity and greatness of
a devout spirit, we need only compare it with
other tempers, that are chosen in the room of
it.
St. John tells us, that all in the world (that
is, all the tempers of a worldly life) is the
lust of the Jlesh, the lust of the eyes, and the
pride of life.
Let us therefore consider, what 'wisdom or
excellency of mind there is required to qualify
a man for these delights.
Let us suppose a man given up to the plea
sures of the body ; surely this can be no sign
of a Jine mind, or an excellent spirit: For if
he
to a Devout ana Holy Life 495
he has but the temper of an animal, he is
great enough for these enjoyments.
Let us suppose him to be devoted to ho
nours and splendors, to be fond of glitter and
equipage ; now if this temper requir'd any great
parts Qijine understanding to make a man ca
pable of it, it would prove the world to abound
with great wits.
Let us suppose him to be in love with
riches, and to be so eager in the pursuit of
them, as never to think he has enough ; now
this passion is so far from supposing any excel
lent sense, or great understanding, that blind
ness and folly are the best supports that it
hath.
Let us lastly suppose him in another light,
not singly devoted to any of these passions,
but, as it mostly happens, governed by all of
them in their turns ; does this show a more
exalted nature, than to spend his days in the
service of any one of them ?
For to have a taste for these things, and to
be devoted to them, is so far from arguing
any tolerable parts or understanding, that they
are suited to the dullest, 'weakest minds, and
require only a great deal of pride and folly to
be greatly admired.
But now let Libertines bring any such charge
as this, if they can, against devotion. They
may as well endeavour to charge light with
every thing that belongs to darkness.
Let them but grant that there is a God,
and Providence, and then they have granted
2 i enough
496 A Serious CALL
enough to justify the wisdom, and support
the honour of devotion.
For if there is an infinitely wise and good
Creator, in whom we live, move, and have
our being, whose Providence governs all things
in all places, surely it must be the highest act
of our understanding to conceive rightly of
him ; it must be the noblest instance of 'judg
ment, the most exalted temper of our nature,
to worship and adore this universal Providence,
to conform to its laws, to study its wisdom,
and to live and act every where, as in the pre
sence of this infinitely good and wise Crea
tor.
Now he that lives thus, lives in the spirit
of devotion.
And what can shew such great parts, and
so fine an understanding, as to live in this
temper ?
For if God is wisdom, surely he must be the
wisest man in the world, who most conforms to
the wisdom of God, who best obeys his Pro
vidence, who enters farthest into his designs,
and does all he can, that God's will may be
done on earth, as it is done in heaven.
A devout man makes a true use of his rea
son ; he sees through the vanity of the world,
discovers the corruption of his nature, and the
blindness of his passions. He lives by a laiv
which is not visible to vulgar eyes ; he enters
into the world of spirits ; he compares the
greatest things, sets eternity against time ; and
chuses rather to be for ever great in the pre
sence
to a Devout and Holy Life 497
sence of God when he dies, than to have the
greatest share of worldly pleasures whilst he
lives.
He that is devout is full of these great
thoughts ; he lives upon these noble reflections,
and conducts himself by rules and principles,
which can only be apprehended, admir'd and
lov'd by reason.
There is nothing therefore that shews so
great a genius, nothing that so raises us
above 'vulgar spirits, nothing that so plain
ly declares an heroic greatness of mind, as
great devotion.
When you suppose a man to be a saint, or
all devotion, you have rais'd him as much a-
bove all other conditions of life, as a Philoso
pher is above an
Lastly, Courage and bravery are words of a
great sound, and seem to signify an heroick spi
rit ; but yet humility, which seems to be the
lowest, meanest part of devotion, is a more cer
tain argument of a noble and courageous mind.
For humility contends with greater enemies,
is more constantly engaged, more violently as
saulted, bears more, suffers more, and requires
greater courage to support it self, than any in
stances of worldly bravery.
A man that dares be poor and contemptible
in the eyes of the world, to approve himself
to God ; that resists and rejects all human glo
ry, that opposes the clamour of his passions,
that meekly puts up all injuries and wrongs,
and
A Serious CALL
and dares stay for his reward till the invisible
hand of God gives to every one their proper
places, endures a much greater trial, and ex
erts a nobler fortitude •, than he that is bold and
daring in the fire of battel.
For the boldness of a Soldier, if he is a
stranger to the spirit of devotion, is rather
'weakness than fortitude ; it is at best but mad
passion, and heated spirits, and has no more
true valour in it than the fury of a Tyger.
For as we cannot lift up a hand, or stir a
foot, but by a power that is lent us from God ;
so bold actions that are not directed by the
laws of God, or so many executions of his
will, are no more true bravery, than sedate
malice is Christian patience.
Reason is our universal laiv, that obliges us
in all places, and at all times ; and no actions
have any honour, but so far as they are in
stances of our obedience to reason.
And it is as base and cowardly, to be bold
and daring against the principle of reason and
justice, as to be bold and daring in lying and
perjury.
Would we therefore exercise a true forti
tude, we must do all in the spirit of Devotion,
be valiant against the corruptions of the 'world,
the lusts of the flesh, and the temptations of
the Devil: For to be daring and courageous
against these enemies, is the noblest bravery
that an human mind is capable of.
I have made this digression for the sake of
those, who think a great Devotion to be big-
gotry
to a Devout and Holy Life 499
go fry and poorness of spirit ; that by these con
siderations they may see, how poor, and
mean all other tempers are, if compar'd to it.
That they may see, that all worldly attain
ments, whether of greatness, wisdom or bra
very, are but empty sounds ; and that there is
nothing wise, or great, or noble, in an human
spirit, but rightly to know, and heartily wor
ship and adore the great God, that is the sup
port and life of all spirits, whether in heaven
or on earth.
FINIS.
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
BV
Law, William,
4500 A serious call to a
.L3 devout and holy life ;
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