Chapter XIV: Part 14

§ 11. "Draw yet nearer, O my soul! with thy most fervent love. Here is matter for it to work upon, something worth thy loving. O see what beauty presents itself! Is not all the beauty in the world united here? Is not all other beauty but deformity? Dost thou now need to be persuaded to love? Here is a feast for thine eyes, and all the powers of thy soul; dost thou need entreaties to feed upon it? Canst thou love a little shining earth, a walking piece of clay? And canst thou not love that God, that Christ, that glory, which is so truly and unmeasurably lovely? Thou canst love thy friend, because he loves thee; and is the love of a friend like the love of Christ? Their weeping or bleeding for thee, do not ease thee, nor stay the course of thy tears or blood: But the tears and blood that fell from thy Lord, have a sovereign healing virtue. O my soul! if love _deserves_, and should beget love, what incomprehensible love is here before thee? Pour out all the store of thy affections here, and all is too little. O that it were more; O that it were many thousand times more! Let him be first served, that served thee first. Let him have the first-born, and strength of thy soul! who parted with strength and life in love for thee. O my soul! Dost thou love for excellency? Yonder is the region of light; this is a land of darkness. Yonder twinkling stars, that shining moon, and radiant sun, are all but lanthorns hung out of thy Father's house, to light thee while thou walkest in this dark world: But how little dost thou know the glory and blessedness that is within?—Dost thou love for suitableness? What person more suitable than Christ? His godhead and humanity, his fulness and freeness, his willingness and constancy, all proclaim him thy suitable friend. What state more suitable to thy misery, than mercy? Or to thy sin and pollution, than honor and perfection? What place more suitable to thee than heaven? Does this world agree with thy desires; hast thou not a sufficient trial of it?—Or dost thou love for interest and near relation? Where hast thou better interest than in heaven, or nearer relation than there?

§ 12. "Dost thou love for acquaintance and familiarity? Though thine eyes have never seen thy Lord, yet thou hast heard his voice, received his benefits, and lived in his bosom; He taught thee to know thyself and him; he opened thee that first window through which thou sawest into heaven. Hast thou forgotten since thy heart was careless, and he awakened it; hard, and he softened it; stubborn, and he made it yield; at peace, and he troubled it; whole, and he broke it; and broken, till he healed it again? Hast thou forgotten the times when he found thee in tears; when he heard thy secret sighs and groans, and left all to come and comfort thee; when he took thee, as it were, in his arms, and asked thee, poor soul, what ails thee? Dost thou weep, when I have wept so much? Be of good cheer; thy wounds are saving, and not deadly; It is I have made them, who mean thee no hurt; though I let out thy blood, I will not let out thy life." I remember his voice. How gently did he take me up? How carefully did he dress my wounds? Methinks I hear him still saying to me, "poor sinner, though thou hast dealt unkindly with me, and cast me off; yet I will not do so by thee. Though thou hast set light by me and all my mercies, yet they and myself are all thine. What wouldst thou have that I can give thee? And what dost thou want that I cannot give thee? If any thing I have will pleasure thee, thou shalt have it. Wouldst thou have pardon? I freely forgive thee all thy debt. Wouldst thou have grace and peace? Thou shalt have them both. Wouldst thou have myself? Behold I am thine, thy Friend, thy Lord, thy Brother, Husband, and Head. Wouldst thou have the Father? I will bring thee to him, and thou shalt have him, in and by me." These were my Lord's reviving words. After all, when I was doubtful of his love, methinks I yet remember his overcoming arguments. "Have I done so much, sinner, to testify my love, and yet dost thou doubt? Have I offered thee myself and love so long and yet dost thou question my willingness to be thine? At what dearer rate should I tell thee that I love thee? Wilt thou not believe my bitter passion proceeded from love? Have I made myself in the gospel a lion to thine enemies, and a lamb to thee, and dost thou overlook my lamb-like nature? Had I been willing to let thee perish, what need I have done and suffered so much? What need I follow thee with such patience and importunity? Why dost thou tell me of thy wants; have I not enough for me and thee? Or of thy unworthiness; for if thou wast thyself worthy, what shouldst thou do with my worthiness? Did I ever invite, or save, the worthy and the righteous; or is there any such upon earth? Hast thou nothing; art thou lost and miserable, helpless and forlorn? Dost thou believe I am an all-sufficient Savior, and wouldst thou have me? Lo, I am thine, take me; if thou art willing, I am; and neither sin, nor Satan, shall break the match." These, O these, were the blessed words which his Spirit from his gospel spoke unto me, till he made me cast myself at his feet, and cry out, "My Savior, and my Lord, thou hast broke, thou hast revived my heart; thou hast overcome, thou hast won my heart; take it, it is thine; if such a heart can please thee, take it; if it cannot, make it such as thou wouldst have it." Thus, O my soul! Mayest thou remember the sweet familiarity thou hast had with Christ; therefore, if acquaintance will cause affection, let out thy heart unto him. It is he hath stood by thy bed of sickness, hath eased thy pains, refreshed thy weariness, and removed thy fears. He hath been always ready, when thou hast earnestly sought him? hath met thee in public and private; hath been found of thee in the congregation, in thy house, in thy closet, in the field, in thy waking nights, in thy deepest dangers.

§ 13. "If bounty and compassion be an attractive of love, how unmeasurably then am I bound to love him? All the mercies that have filled up my life, all the places that ever I abode in, all the societies and persons I have been conversant with, all my employments and relations, every condition I have been in, and every change I have passed through, all tell me, that the fountain is _overflowing goodness_. Lord what a sum of Love am I indebted to thee? And how does my debt continually increase? How should I love again for so much love? But shall I dare to think of requiting thee, or of recompensing all thy love with mine? Will my mite requite thee for thy golden mines; my seldom wishes, for thy constant bounty, mine which is nothing, or not mine, for thine which is infinite and thine own? Shall I dare to contend in love with thee? or set my borrowed languid spark against the Sun of love? Can I love as high, as deep, as broad, as long, as Love itself; as much as he that made me, and that made me love, and gave me all that little which I have? As I cannot match thee in the works of power, nor make, nor preserve, nor rule the worlds; no more can I match thee in love. No, Lord, I yield; I am overcome. O blessed conquest! Go on victoriously, and still prevail, and triumph in thy love. The captive of love shall proclaim thy victory! when thou leadest me in triumph from earth to heaven, from death to life, from the tribunal to the throne; myself, and all that see it, shall acknowledge thou hast prevailed, and all shall say, _behold how he loved him_! Yet let me love in subjection to thy love; as thy redeemed captive, though not thy peer. Shall I not love at all, because I cannot reach thy measure? O that I could feelingly say, _I love thee_, even as I love my friend, and myself! Though I cannot say, as the Apostle, _Thou knowest that I love thee_; yet I can say, Lord, thou knowest that I would love thee; I am angry with my heart, that it doth not love thee; I chide it, yet it doth not mend; I reason with it, and would fain persuade it, yet I do not perceive it stir; I rub and chafe it in the use of thy ordinances, and yet I feel it not warm within me. Unworthy soul! Is not thine eye now upon the only lovely object? Art thou not beholding the ravishing glory of the saints? And dost thou not love? Art thou not a rational soul, and should not reason tell thee, that earth is a dungeon to the celestial glory? Art thou not thyself a spirit, and shouldst thou not love God, _who is a spirit, and the Father of spirits_? Why dost thou love so much thy perishing clay, and love no more the heavenly glory? Shalt thou love when thou comest there; when the Lord shall take thy carcase from the grave, and make thee shine as the sun in glory for ever and ever; shalt thou then love, or shalt thou not? Is not the place a meeting of lovers? Is not the life a state of love? Is it not the great marriage day of the Lamb? Is not the employment there the work of love, where the souls with Christ take their fill? O then, my soul, begin it here! _Be sick of love_ now, that thou mayest be well with love there. _Keep thyself now in the love of God_; and let _neither life, nor death, nor any thing separate thee from it_; and thou shalt be kept in the fulness of love for ever, and nothing shall embitter or abate thy pleasure; for the Lord hath prepared a city of love, a place for communicating love to his chosen, _and they that love his name shall dwell therein_.

§ 14. "Awake then, O my drowsy soul! To sleep under the light of grace is unreasonable, much more in the approach of the light of glory. Come forth, my dull congealed spirit, thy Lord bids thee _rejoice and again rejoice_. Thou hast lain long enough in thy prison of flesh, where Satan hath been thy jailor, cares have been thy irons, fears thy scourges, and thy food the bread and water of affliction: where sorrows have been thy lodging, and thy sins and foes have made the bed, and an unbelieving heart hath been the gates and bars that have kept thee in: The angel of the covenant now calls thee, and strikes thee, and bids thee, _arise and follow him_. Up, O my soul! and cheerfully obey, and thy bolts and bars shall all fly open; _follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth_. Shouldst thou fear to follow such a guide? Can the sun lead thee to a state of darkness? Will he lead thee to death, who died to save thee from it? Follow him, and he will shew thee _the paradise of God_; He will give thee a sight of the _New Jerusalem_, and a taste of _the tree of life_. Come forth, my drooping soul, and lay aside thy winter-dress; let it be seen by thy _garments of joy and praise_, that the spring is come, and as thou now seest thy comforts green; thou shalt shortly see them _white and ripe for harvest_, and then thou shalt be called to reap, and gather, and take possession. Should I suspend and delay my joys till then? Should not the joys of the spring go before the joys of harvest? Is title nothing before possession? Is the heir in no better a state than a slave? My Lord hath taught me to _rejoice_ in _hope of his glory_; and how to see it through the bars of a prison; for _when I am persecuted for righteousness' sake_, he commands me to _rejoice, and be exceeding glad_, because _my reward in heaven is great_. I know he would have my joys exceed my sorrows; and as much as he delights in the humble and contrite he yet more delights in the soul that _delights in him_. Hath my Lord spread me a table in this wilderness, and furnished it with the promises of everlasting glory, and set before me angels' food? Doth he frequently and importunately invite me to sit down, and feed, and spare not? Hath he, to that end, furnished me with reason, and faith, and a joyful disposition; and is it possible that he should be unwilling to have me rejoice? Is it not his command, to _delight thyself in the Lord_; and his promise, to _give thee the desires of thine heart_? Art thou not charged, to _rejoice evermore_: yea, to _sing aloud, and shout, for joy_? Why should I then be discouraged? My God is willing, if I were but willing. He is delighted in my delights. He would have it my constant frame, and daily business, to be near him in my believing meditations, and to live in the sweetest thoughts of his goodness. O blessed employment, fit for the sons of God! But thy feast, my Lord, is nothing to me without an appetite: Thou hast set the dainties of heaven before me; but, alas! I am blind, and cannot see them; I am sick, and cannot relish them; I am so benumbed, that I cannot put forth a hand to take them. I therefore humbly beg this grace, that as thou hast opened heaven to me in thy word, so thou wouldst _open mine eyes to see_ it, and my heart to delight in it; else heaven will be no heaven to me. O thou Spirit of life, breathe upon thy graces in me; take me by the hand, and lift me from earth, that I may see what glory _thou hast prepared for them that love thee_!

§ 15. "Away then, ye soul-tormenting cares and fears, ye heart-vexing sorrows: At least forbear a little while; stand by; stay here below, till I go up, and see my rest. The way is strange to me, but not to Christ. There was the eternal abode of his glorious Deity; and thither hath he also brought his glorified flesh. It was his work to purchase it; it is his to prepare it, and prepare me for it, and bring me to it. The eternal God of truth hath given me his promise, his seal, and oath, _that, believing in Christ, I shall not perish, but have everlasting life_. Thither shall my soul be speedily removed, and my body very shortly follow. And can my tongue say, that I shall shortly and surely live with God; and yet my heart not leap within me? Can I say it with faith, and not with joy! Ah! faith, how sensibly do I now perceive thy weakness! But though unbelief darken my light, and dull my life, and suppress my joys, it shall not be able to conquer, and destroy me; though it envy all my comforts, yet some in spite of it I shall even here receive; and if that did not hinder, what abundance might I have? The light of heaven would shine into my heart; and I might be almost as familiar there, as I am on earth. Come away then, my soul; stop thine ears to the ignorant language of infidelity; thou art able to answer all its arguments; or if thou art not, yet tread them under thy feet. Come away; stand not looking on that grave, nor turning those bones, nor reading thy lesson now in the dust; those lines will soon be wiped out. But lift up thy head, and look to heaven, and see thy name in golden letters, _written before the foundation of the world, in the book of life of the Lamb that was slain_. What if an angel should tell thee, that there is a mansion in heaven prepared for thee, that it shall certainly be thine for ever, would not such a message make thee glad? And dost thou make light of the infallible word of promise, which was delivered by the Spirit, and even by the Son himself? Suppose thou hadst seen a _fiery chariot_ come for thee, and fetch thee up to heaven, like Elijah; would not this rejoice thee? But thy Lord assures thee, that the soul of a Lazarus hath a convoy of _angels_ to _carry_ it _into Abraham's bosom_. Shall a drunkard be so merry among his cups, or the glutton in his delicious fare, and shall not I rejoice who must shortly be in heaven? Can meat and drink delight me when I hunger and thirst; can I find pleasure in walks and gardens, and convenient dwellings; can beautiful objects delight mine eyes; or grateful odors my smell; or melody my ears: and shall not the forethought of celestial bliss delight me? Methinks among my books I could employ myself in sweet content, and bid the world farewell, and pity the rich and great that know not this happiness; what then will my happiness in heaven be, where my knowledge will be perfect? If _the Queen of Sheba came from the utmost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon_, and see his glory; how cheerfully should I pass from earth to heaven, to see the glory of the eternal Majesty, and attain the height of wisdom; compared with which the most learned on earth are but fools and ideots? What if God had made me commander of the earth; what if I could _remove mountains_, _heal diseases with a word or a touch_, or _cast out Devils_; should I not rejoice in such privileges and honors as these; and shall I not much more _rejoice that_ my name is written in heaven? I cannot here enjoy my parents, or my near and beloved friends, without some delight; especially when I did freely let out my affection to my friend, how sweet was that exercise of my love! O what will it then be to live in the perpetual love of God! _For brethren to dwell together in unity_ here, _how good and how pleasant is it_! To see a family live in love, husband and wife, parents, children, and servants, doing all in love to one another; to see a town live together in love, without any envyings, brawlings or contentions, law-suits, factions, or divisions, but every man loving his neighbor as himself, thinking they can never do too much for one another, but striving to go beyond each other in love; how happy, how delightful a sight is this! O then, what a blessed society will the family of heaven be, and those peaceful inhabitants of the New Jerusalem, where there is no division, nor differing judgments, no disaffection nor strangeness, no deceitful friendship, no, not one unkind expression, nor any angry look or thought; but _all are one in Christ_, who is one with the Father, and all live in the love of him, who is love itself! The soul is not more where it lives, than where it loves. How near then will my soul be united to God, when I shall so heartily, strongly, and incessantly love him! Ah, wretched, unbelieving heart, that can think of such a day, and work, and life as this, with such low and feeble joys! But my future enjoying joys will be more lively!

§ 16. "How delightful is it to me to behold and study these inferior works of creation? What a beautiful fabric do we here dwell in; the floor so dressed with herbs, and flowers, and trees, and watered with springs and rivers; the roof so wide expanded, so admirably adorned! What wonders do sun, moon, and stars, seas, and winds, contain! And hath God prepared such a house for corruptible flesh, for a soul imprisoned; and doth he bestow so many millions of wonders upon his enemies! O what a dwelling must that be, which he prepares for his dearly beloved children; and how will the glory of the new Jerusalem exceed all the present glory of the creatures? Arise then, O my soul, in thy contemplation; and let thy thoughts of that glory as far exceed in sweetness thy thoughts of the excellencies below! Fear not to go out of this body, and this world, when thou must make so happy a change; but say, as one did when he was dying, I am glad, and even leap for joy, that the time is come in which that mighty JEHOVAH, whose Majesty, in my search of nature I have admired, whose goodness I have adored, whom by faith I have desired and panted after, will now shew himself to me face to face.

§ 17. "How wonderful also are the works of Providence? How delightful to see the great God interest himself in the safety and advancement of a few humble, praying, but despised persons; and to review those special mercies with which my own life hath been adorned and sweetened? How often have my prayers been heard, my tears regarded, my troubled soul relieved? How often hath my Lord bid me _be of good cheer_? What a support are these experiences, these clear testimonies of my Father's love, to my fearful unbelieving heart? O then, what a blessed day will that be, when I shall have all mercy, perfection of mercy, and fully enjoy the Lord of mercy; when I shall stand on the shore, and look back on the raging seas I have safely passed; when I shall review my pains and sorrows, my fears and tears, and possess the glory which was the end of all? If one drop of lively faith was mixed with these considerations, what a heaven-ravishing heart should I carry within me? Fain would _I believe; Lord, help my unbelief_.

§ 18. "How sweet, O my soul, have ordinances been to thee? What delight hast thou had in prayer, and thanksgiving, under heavenly sermons, and in the society of saints, and to see _the Lord adding to the church such as should be saved_? How can my heart then conceive the joy, which I shall have to see the perfected church in heaven, and to be admitted into the celestial temple, and with the heavenly host praise the Lord forever? If the _word of God_ was sweeter to Job than _his necessary food_; and to David, _than honey and the honey-comb_; and _was the joy and rejoicing of Jeremiah's heart_; how blessed a day will that be, when we fully enjoy the Lord of this word, and shall no more need these written precepts and promises, nor read any book but the face of the glorious God? If they that heard Christ speak on earth, _were astonished at his wisdom and answers_, and _wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth_; how shall I then be affected to behold him in his majesty?

§ 19. "Can the prospect of this glory make others _welcome the cross_, and even refuse deliverance; and cannot it make thee cheerful under lesser sufferings? Can it sweeten the flames of martyrdom; and not sweeten thy life, or thy sickness, or thy natural death? Is it not the same heaven which they and I must live in? Is not their God, their Christ, their crown, and mine the same? And shall I look upon it with an eye so dim, a heart so dull, a countenance so dejected? Some small foretastes of it have I myself had; and how much more delightful have they been, than any earthly things ever were; and what then will the full enjoyment be?

§ 20. "What a beauty is there here in the imperfect graces of the Spirit? Alas! how small are these, to what we shall enjoy in our perfect state? What a happy life should I here live, could I but love God as much as I would; could I be all love, and always loving? O my soul! what wouldst thou give for such a life? had I such apprehensions of God, such knowledge of his word as I desire? could I fully trust him in all my straits; could I be as lively as I would in every duty; could I make God my constant desire and delight; I would not envy the world their honors or pleasures. What a blessed state, O my soul! wilt thou shortly be in, when thou shalt have far more of these than thou canst now desire, and shalt exercise thy perfected graces in the immediate vision of God, and not in the dark, and at a distance, as now?

§ 21. "Is the sinning, afflicted, persecuted church of Christ, so much more excellent than any particular gracious soul? What then will the church be, when it is fully gathered and glorified; when it is ascended from the valley of tears to mount Sion; when it shall sin and suffer no more! The glory of the old Jerusalem will be darkness and deformity to the glory of the _new_. What cause shall we have then to shout for joy, when we shall see how glorious the heavenly temple is, and remember the meanness of the church on earth?"

[N. B. _If this Chapter seems too long to be read at once, it may be properly divided here._]

§ 22. "But alas! what a loss am I at in the midst of my contemplations? I thought my heart had all the while attended, but I see it doth not. What life is there in empty thoughts and words, without affections? Neither God, nor I, find pleasure in them. Where hast thou been, unworthy heart, while I was opening to thee the everlasting treasures? Art thou not ashamed to complain so much of an uncomfortable life, and to murmur at God for filling thee with sorrows; when he in vain offers thee the delights of angels? Hadst thou now but followed me close, it would have made thee revive and leap for joy, and forget thy pains and sorrows. Did I think my heart had been so backward to rejoice?

§ 23. "Lord, thou hast reserved my perfect joys for heaven: therefore, help me to desire till I may possess, and let me long when I cannot, as I would rejoice. O my soul, thou knowest to thy sorrow, that thou art not yet at thy rest. When shall I arrive at that safe and quiet harbor, where there are none of these storms, waves, and dangers; when I shall never more have a weary restless night or day! Then my life will not be such a mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow; nor shall flesh and spirit be combatting within me; nor faith and unbelief, humility and pride, maintain a continual conflict. O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears, and cares, and griefs? When shall I be out of this soul-contradicting, ensnaring, deceitful flesh; this corruptible body, this vain, vexatious world! Alas, that I must stand and see the church and cause of Christ tossed about in contention, and made subservient to private interests, or deluded fancies! There is none of this disorder in the heavenly Jerusalem; there I shall find an harmonious consent of perfected spirits, in obeying and praising their everlasting King. O how much better to be a _door-keeper_ there, than the commander of this tumultuous world? Why am I no more weary of this weariness? Why do I so forget my resting place? Up then, O my soul, in thy most raised and fervent desires! Stay not till this flesh can desire with thee; expect not that sense should apprehend thy blessed object, and tell thee when and what to desire. Doth not the dulness of thy desires after rest, accuse thee of most detestable ingratitude and folly? Must thy Lord procure thee a rest at so dear a rate, and dost thou no more value it? Must he go before to prepare so glorious a mansion for such a wretch, and art thou loth to go and possess it? Shall the Lord of Glory be desirous of thy company, and thou not desirous of his? Must earth become a very hell to thee, before thou art willing to be with God? Behold the most lovely creature, or the most desirable state, and tell me, where wouldst thou be, if not with God? Poverty is a burden; riches a snare; sickness unpleasing; health unsafe; the frowning world _bruises thy heel_; the smiling world _stings_ thee to the heart; so much as the world is loved and delighted in, it hurts and endangers the lover; and, if it may not be loved, why should it be desired? If thou art applauded, it proves the most contagious breath; if thou art vilified, or unkindly used, methinks this should not entice thy love. If thy successful labors, and thy godly friends, seem better to thee than a life with God, it is time for God to take them from thee. If thy studies have been sweet, have they not also been bitter? And at best, what are they to the everlasting views of the God of truth? Thy friends here have been thy delight; and have they not also been thy vexation and grief? They are gracious, and are they not also sinful? They are kind, and are they not soon displeased? They are humble, but, alas, how proud also? Their graces are sweet, and their gifts helpful; but are not their corruptions bitter, and their imperfections hurtful? And art thou so loth to go from them to thy God?

§ 24. "O my soul, look above this world of sorrows! Hast thou so long felt the smarting rod of affliction, and no better understood its meaning? Is not every stroke to drive thee hence? Is not its voice like that to Elijah, _what dost thou here_? Dost thou forget thy Lord's prediction. _In the world ye shall have tribulation, in me ye may have peace._ Ah! my dear Lord, I feel thy meaning; it is written in my flesh, engraved in my bones. My heart thou aimest at; thy rod drives, thy silken cord of love draws; and all to bring it to thyself. Lord, can such a heart be worth thy having? Make it worthy, and then it is thine; take it to thyself, and then take me. This clod hath life to stir, but not to rise. As the feeble child to the tender mother, it looketh up to thee, and stretcheth out the hands, and fain would have thee take it up. Though I cannot say, _my soul longeth after thee_; yet I can say, I long for such a longing heart. _The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak._ My spirit cries, _let thy kingdom come_, or let me come to thy kingdom; but the flesh is afraid thou shouldst hear my prayer, and take me at my word. O blessed be thy grace, which makes use of my corruptions to kill themselves; for I fear my fears, and sorrow for my sorrows, and long for greater longings; and thus the painful means of attaining my desires increase my weariness, and that makes me groan to be at rest.

§ 25. "Indeed, Lord, my soul itself is _in a strait_, and _what to choose I know not_; but thou knowest what to give: _to depart, and be with thee, is far better_. But _to abide in the flesh_ seems _needful_. Thou knowest I am not weary of thy work, but of sorrow and sin; I am willing to stay while thou wilt employ me, and dispatch the work thou hast put into my hands: But, I beseech thee, stay no longer when this is done; and while I must be here, let me be still amending and ascending; make me still better and take me at the best. I dare not be so impatient, as to importune thee to cut off my time, and snatch me hence unready; because I know my everlasting state so much depends on the improvement of this life. Nor would I stay when my work is done; and remain here sinning, while my brethren are triumphing. Thy footsteps bruise this worm, while those stars shine in the firmament of glory. Yet I am thy child as well as they; Christ is my Head as well as theirs; why is there then so great a distance? But I acknowledge the equity of thy ways; though we are all children, yet I am the prodigal, and therefore more fit in this remote country to _feed on husks_, while they are _always with thee_, and possess thy glory. They were once themselves in my condition, and I shall shortly be in theirs. They were of the lowest form, before they came to the highest; they _suffered_, before they _reigned_; they _came out of great tribulation, who are_ now _before thy throne_; and shall not I be content to come to the crown as they did; and to _drink of their cup_; before I _sit with them in the kingdom_? Lord, I am content to stay thy time, and go thy way, so thou wilt exalt me also in thy season, and take me _into thy barn_, when thou seest me ripe. In the mean time I may desire, though I am not to repine; I may believe and wish, though not make any sinful haste: I am willing to wait for thee, but not to lose thee; and when thou seest me too contented with thine absence, then quicken my languid desires, and blow up the dying spark of love; and leave me not till I am able unfeignedly to cry out, '_As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God? My conversation is in heaven, from whence I look for a Savior. My affections are set on things above, where Christ sitteth, and my life is hid. I walk by faith, and not by sight; willing rather to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord._'

§ 26. "What interest hath this empty world in me; and what is there in it that may seem so lovely, as to entice my desires from my God, or make me loth to come away? Methinks, when I look upon it with a deliberate eye, it is a howling wilderness, and too many of its inhabitants are untamed monsters; I can view all its beauty as deformity; and drown all its pleasures in a few penitent tears; or the wind of a sigh will scatter them away. O let not this flesh so seduce my soul, as to make it prefer this weary life before the joys that are about thy throne! And though death itself be unwelcome to nature, yet let thy grace make thy glory appear to me so desirable, that the king of terrors may be the messenger of my joy! Let not my soul be ejected by violence, and dispossessed of its habitation against its will; but draw it to thyself by the secret power of thy love as the sunshine in the spring draws forth the creatures from their winter cells; meet it half way and entice it to thee, as the load-stone doth the iron, and as the greater flame attracts the less! Dispel therefore the clouds that hide thy love from me; or remove the scales that hinder mine eyes from beholding thee; for the beams that stream from thy face, and the foretaste of thy great salvation, and nothing else can make a soul unfeignedly say _now let thy servant depart in peace_! But it is not thy ordinary discoveries that will here suffice; as the work is greater, so must thy help be. O turn these fears into strong desires, and this lothness to die into longings after thee! While I must be absent from thee, let my soul as heartily groan, as my body doth under its want of health! If I have any more time to spend on earth, let me live, as without the world, in thee, as I have sometime lived as _without thee in the world_! While I have a thought to think, let me not forget thee; or a tongue to move, let me mention thee with delight; or a breath to breathe, let it be after thee, or for thee; or a knee to bend, let it daily bow at thy footstool; and when by sickness thou confinest me, do thou _make my bed, number my pains, and put all my tears into thy bottle_!

§ 27. "As my flesh desired what my spirit abhorred, so now let my spirit desire that day which my flesh abhorreth; that my friends may not with so much sorrow wait for the departure of my soul, as my soul with joy shall wait for its own departure! Then _let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his_; even a removal to that glory that shall never end! Then let thy convoy of angels bring my departing soul among _the perfected spirits of the just_, and let me follow my dear friends that have died _in Christ before me_; and while my sorrowing friends are weeping over my grave, let my spirit be reposed with thee in rest; and while my corpse shall lie rotting in the dark, let my soul be in _the inheritance of the saints in light_! O thou that _numberest the very hairs of my head_, number all the days that my body lies in the dust; and thou that _writest all my members in thy book_, keep an account of my scattered bones! O my Savior, hasten the time of thy return; _send forth thy angels_, and let that dreadful, joyful _trumpet sound_! Delay not, lest the living give up their hopes; delay not, lest earth should grow like hell, and thy church, by division, be all crumbled to dust; delay not, lest thy enemies get advantage of thy flock, and lest pride, hypocrisy, sensuality, and unbelief prevail against thy _little remnant_, and share amongst them thy whole inheritance, and _when thou comest_, thou _find_ not _faith on the earth_; delay not, lest the grave should boast of victory, and having learned rebellion of its guest, should refuse to deliver thee up thy due! O hasten that great resurrection day, when thy command shall go forth, and none shall disobey; when _the sea and earth shall yield up their_ hostages, _and all that sleep in the grave shall awake, and the dead in Christ shall rise first_; when _the seed_ which thou sowedst _corruptible, shall_ come forth _incorruptible_; and graves that received rottenness and dust, shall return thee glorious stars and suns! Therefore dare I lay down my carcass in the dust, entrusting it, not to a grave, but to thee, and _therefore my flesh shall rest in hope_, till thou shalt raise it to the possession of _everlasting rest. Return, O Lord, how long? O let thy kingdom come!_ Thy desolate _bride saith, Come!_ for thy _Spirit_ within her _saith_, Come; and teacheth her thus to _pray with groanings which cannot be uttered_; yea, _the whole creation_ saith, Come, _waiting to be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God_; thou thyself hast _said, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, Come Lord Jesus?_"

§ 28. Thus, reader, I have given thee my best advice for maintaining a heavenly conversation, If thou canst not thus meditate methodically and fully, yet do it as thou canst: only be sure to do it seriously and frequently. Be acquainted with this heavenly work, and thou wilt, in some degree, be acquainted with God; thy joys will be spiritual, prevalent, and lasting, according to the nature of their blessed object; thou wilt have comfort in life and death: When thou hast neither wealth, nor health, nor the pleasure of this world, yet wilt thou have comfort: Without the presence, or help of any friend, without a minister, without a book, when all means are denied thee, or taken from thee, yet mayest thou have vigorous, real comfort. Thy graces will be mighty, active, and vigorous; and the daily joy, which is thus fetched from heaven _will be thy strength_. Thou wilt be as one that stands on the top of an exceeding high mountain; he looks down on the world as if it were quite below him; fields and woods, cities and towns, seem to him but little spots. Thus despicably wilt thou look on all things here below. The greatest princes will seem but as grashoppers; the busy, contentious, covetous world, but as a heap of ants. Men's threatenings will be no terror to thee; nor the honors of this world any strong enticement; temptations will be more harmless, as having lost their strength; and afflictions less grievous, as having lost their sting; and every mercy will be better known, and relished. It is now, under God, in thy own choice, whether thou wilt live this blessed life or not; and whether all this pains I have taken for thee shall prosper, or be lost. If it be lost through thy laziness, thou thyself wilt prove the greatest loser. O man, what hast thou to mind but God and heaven? Art thou not almost out of this world already? Dost thou not look every day, when one disease or other will let out thy soul? Does not _the grave wait to be thine house_; and worms to feed upon thy face and heart? What if thy pulse must beat a few strokes more? What if thou hast a little longer to breathe, before thou breathe out thy last; a few more nights to sleep, before thou sleepest in the dust? Alas! what will this be, when it is gone? And is it not almost gone already? Very shortly thou wilt see thy glass run out, and say to thyself, "My life is done! My time is gone! 'Tis past recalling! There's nothing now but heaven or hell before me!" Where then should thy heart be now, but in heaven? Didst thou know what a dreadful thing it is, to have a doubt of heaven when a man is dying it would rouse thee up. And what else but doubt can that man then do, that never seriously thought of heaven before?

§ 29. Some there be that say, "It is not worth so much time and trouble, to think of the greatness of the joys above; so that we can make sure they are ours; we know they are great." But as these men obey not the command of God, which requires them to have _their conversation in heaven_, and to _set their affections on things above_; so they wilfully make their own lives miserable, by refusing the delights which God hath set before them. And if this were all, it were a small matter; but see what abundance of other mischiefs follow the neglect of these heavenly delights. This neglect—will damp, if not destroy, their love to God;—will make it unpleasant to them to think or speak of God, or engage in his service;—it tends to pervert their judgments concerning the ways and ordinances of God;—it makes them sensual and voluptuous;—it leaves them under the power of every affliction and temptation, and is a preparative to total apostasy;—it will also make them fearful and unwilling to die. For who would go to a God, or a place, he hath no delight in? Who would leave his pleasure here, if he had not better to go to? Had I only proposed a course of melancholy and fear, and sorrow, you might reasonably have objected. But you must have heavenly delights, or none that are lasting. God is willing you should daily walk with him, and fetch in consolations from the everlasting fountain; if you are unwilling, even bear the loss; and when you are dying, seek for comfort where you can get it, and see whether fleshly delights will remain with you; then conscience will remember, in spite of you, that you was once persuaded to a way for more excellent pleasures, pleasures that would have followed you through death, and have lasted to eternity.

§ 30. As for you, whose hearts God hath weaned from all things here below, I hope you will value this heavenly life, and take one walk every day in the new Jerusalem. God is your love, and your desire, you would fain be more acquainted with your Savior; and I know it is your grief, that your hearts are not nearer to him, and that they do not more feelingly love him, and delight in him. O try this life of meditation on your heavenly rest! Here is the mount, on which the fluctuating ark of your souls may rest. Let the world see by your heavenly lives that religion is something more than opinions and disputes, or a task of outward duties. If ever a Christian is like himself, and answerable to his principles and profession, it is when he is most serious and lively in this duty. As Moses before he died, went up unto mount Nebo, to take a survey of the land of Canaan; so the Christian ascends this mount of contemplation, and by faith surveys his rest. He looks upon the glorious mansions, and says, "_Glorious things are_ deservedly _spoken of thee, thou city of God_!" He hears, as it were, the melody of the heavenly choir, and says, "_Happy is the people that is in such a case; yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord!_" He looks upon the glorified inhabitants, and says, "_Happy art thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee, O people, saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and who is the sword of thine excellency!_" When he looks upon the Lord himself, who is their glory, he is ready with the rest, to _fall down, and worship him, that liveth for ever and ever_, and _say, "Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come! Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and honor, and power!"_ When he looks on the glorified Savior, he is ready to say, _Amen_, to that _new Song, "Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever: For thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us, unto our God, kings and priests!_" When he looks back on the wilderness of this world, he blesses the believing, patient, despised saints; he pities the ignorant, obstinate, miserable world; and for himself, he says, as Peter, "_It is good to be here_"; or as Asaph, "_It is good for me to draw near to God; for lo, they that are far from thee, shall perish._" Thus, as Daniel, in his captivity, daily opened his window toward Jerusalem, though far out of sight, when he went to God in his devotions; so may the believing soul, in this captivity of the flesh, look towards _Jerusalem which is above_: And as Paul was to the Colossians, so may the believer be with the glorified spirits, _though absent in the flesh, yet with them in the spirit, joying and beholding their_ heavenly _order_. And as the lark sweetly sings, while she soars on high, but is suddenly silenced when she falls to the earth; so is the frame of the soul most delightful and divine, while it keeps in the views of God by contemplation: Alas, we make there too short a stay, fall down again, and lay by our music!

§ 31. But, "O thou, the merciful Father of Spirits, the attractive of love, and ocean of delights, draw up these drossy hearts unto thyself, and keep them there till they are spiritualized and refined; and second thy servant's weak endeavors, and persuade those that read these lines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! O suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant to be a stranger to those joys, which he describes to others; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily breathings after thee, and in a believing, affectionate walking with thee! And when thou comest, let me be found so doing; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with my lamp unfurnished; but waiting and longing for my Lord's return! Let those who shall read these heavenly directions, not merely read the fruit of my studies; but the breathings of my active hope and love: That, if my heart were open to their view, they might there read the same most deeply engraven with a beam from the face of the Son of God; and not find _vanity_, or _lust_, or _pride_ within, when the _words of life_ appear without; that so these lines may not witness against me; but, proceeding from the heart of the _writer_, may be effectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the reader, and so be the savor of life to both! Amen."

_Glory be to God in the highest; on earth peace; good will towards men._

FINIS.

The Trustees of Phillips Academy, to whom is committed the distribution of the pious bounty of the late Lt. Gov. PHILLIPS wishing to co-operate in the same benevolent and useful design, affectionately recommend this inestimable book to the serious and careful perusal of every person into whose hands it may fall.

Reader, whoever thou art, the work before you is the production of one of the ablest and best of men, whose praise is in all the churches. Though dead, he is instructing thousands by his numerous and excellent practical writings, which have survived him. Among these, his _Saints' Rest_, has been most highly esteemed. He wrote it in the near view of death, when in feeble health, and for his own immediate use; and he testifies that he derived "more benefit from it, than from all the other studies of his life." Few books have ever received higher commendations, been translated into more languages, passed through more numerous editions, been more read, or more useful in the Christian church than this. No person of a serious mind can read it without profit.

"To _allure our desires_, it unveils the sanctuary above, and discovers the glories and joys of the blessed in the Divine presence, by a light so strong and lively, that all the glittering vanities of this world vanish in the comparison, and a sincere believer will despise them, as one of mature age does the toys and baubles of children. To _excite our fears_, he removes the screen, and represents the tormenting passions of the damned in those dreadful colors, that, if duly considered, would check and control the unbridled licentious appetites of the most sensual[397]."

Reader, the book is in your hands, read, meditate, and then judge for yourself. May the Lord bless the instructions for your spiritual benefit. So will the good design of the pious donor be answered, and the Agents of his bounty have their desired reward.

[Footnote 397] _Dr. Bates._

End of Project Gutenberg's The Saint's Everlasting Rest, by Richard Baxter