Chapter XXXVIII: Preface: By the Editor (37)

In these words, you may consider more distinctly, who this is, and then, for whom he is made a sacrifice, and withal, the efficacy of this sacrifice, and the sufficiency. Who this is, is pointed out as with the finger. “He is,” that is, “Jesus Christ, the righteous.” The apostle demonstrates him as a remarkable person, as in his evangel the Baptist doth—“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world.” And the church, (Isa. lxii. 1,) taketh a special notice of this person, “Who is this that cometh from Edom?” And that which maketh him so remarkable, is his strange habit, after the treading the wine-press of wrath alone,—that he was made a bloody sacrifice to pacify God. And to show you how notable a person he is, he is signally and eminently pointed out by the Father, Isa. xlii. 1, “Behold my servant,” &c, as if he would have the eyes of all men fixed upon him, with wonder and admiration. And for this end, he singled him out from the multitude, by a voice from heaven, which testified unto him particularly, “This is my well beloved Son, hear him.” Therefore the apostle had reason to say, (2 Cor. v. 14.) that he is “one for all,” so notable an one, that he may serve for all. He stands in more value in the count of God than all mankind. All creatures are ciphers, which being never so much multiplied, come to nothing, amount not beyond nothing, but set him before them, put Christ on the head of them, and he signifies more than they all do, and gives them all some estimation in the count. And so they stand in Paul’s calculation, (Phil. iii.) which he makes with very great assurance and confidence, “Yea, doubtless, I count all dung, but the superexcellent knowledge of Christ,”—Christ is only the figure that hath signification, and gives signification to other things.

But in this business, the consideration of the persons interested, _he_ and _us_, maketh us behold a great emphasis in the gospel. _He_ a propitiation, and that for _our_ sins, is a strange combination of wonders. If it had been some other person less distant from us, that were thus given for us, and standing in our room, then we should have better understood the exchange. Things of like worth, to be thus shuffled together, and stand in one another’s place, is not so strange. But between the persons mentioned, _him_ and _us_, there is such an infinite distance, that it is wonderful how the one descends to the room of the other, to become a sacrifice for us. O that we could express this to our own hearts, with all the emphasis that it hath! He the Lord, and we the servants; he the King, and we the poor beggars, he the brightness of his Father’s glory, and we the shame and ignominy of the whole creation, he counting it no robbery to be equal with God, and being in the form of God, and we not equal to the worst of creatures, because of sin, and being in the form of devils! Had it been a holy and righteous man for sinners, it had been a strange enough exchange, but he is not only holy and harmless, but higher than the heavens. O what a vast descent was this, from heaven to earth, from a Lord to a servant, from an eternal Spirit to mortal flesh, from God to creatures! And to descend thus far for such persons, not only unworthy in themselves, such as could not conciliate any liking, but such as might procure loathing,—as is described, Ezek. xvi., Rom. v. 6, 1 Pet. iii. 18,—“while we were enemies,” and might have expected a commissioner from heaven, with vengeance against us. Behold how the mysterious design of love breaks up and opens itself to the world, in sending his own Son for us! And this is exceedingly aggravated from the absolute freedom of it, that there was nothing to pre-engage him to it, but infinite impediments in the way to dissuade him, many impediments to his affection, and many difficulties to his power, and then, no gain nor advantage to be expected from such creatures, notwithstanding of such an undertaking for them.

Now, herein is the strongest support of faith, and the greatest incentive to love, and the mightiest persuasive to obedience that can be. I say, the strongest support of faith, for, a soul apprehending the greatness and heinousness of sin and the inviolableness of God’s righteousness, with the purity of his holiness, can hardly be persuaded, that any thing can compense that infinite wrong that is done to his Majesty, though ordinarily the small and superficial apprehension of sin makes a kind of facility in this, or an empty credulity of the gospel. The reason why most men do not question and doubt of the gospel, and of their acceptance before God, is not because they are established in the faith, but rather because they do not so seriously and deeply believe, and ponder their own sins, and God’s holiness, which, if many did, they would find it a greater difficulty to attain to a solid and quieting persuasion of the grounds of the gospel: they would find much ado to settle that point of the readiness of God, to pardon and accept sinners. But now, I say, all this difficulty, and these clouds of doubts will evanish at the bright appearance of this Sun of righteousness, that is, at the solid consideration of the glorious excellency of him that was given a ransom for us. Herein the soul may be satisfied, that God is satisfied, when he considers what a person hath undertaken it, even Jesus the righteous, the only Son of God, in whom his soul delighteth, whose glorious divine Majesty puts the stamp of infinite worth upon all his sufferings, and raiseth up the dignity of the sacrifice, beyond the sufferings of all creatures. For there are two things needful for the full satisfaction of a troubled soul, that apprehends the heinousness of sin, and height of wrath, nothing can calm and settle this storm, but the appearance of two things _first_ of God’s willingness and readiness to pardon sin, and save sinners, _next_ of the answerableness of a ransom to his justice, that so there may be no impediment in his way to forgive. Now, let this once be established in thy heart that such an one, so beloved of God and so equal to God, is the propitiation for our sins that, “God hath sent his only begotten Son,” for this very business, unrequired and unknown of us then, there is the clearest demonstration of these two things that can be—of the love of God, and of the worth of the ransom. What difficulty can be supposed in it, actually to pardon thy heinous sins, when his love hath overcome infinitely greater difficulties, to send One, his own Son, to procure pardon, John iii. Certainly, it cannot but be the very delight of his heart to forgive sins, since he “spared not his Son” to purchase it, since he hath had such an everlasting design of love, which broke out in Christ’s coming. And then, such a person he is, that the merit of his sufferings cannot but be a valuable and sufficient compensation to justice for our personal exemption, because he is one above all, of infinite highness. And therefore his lowness hath an infinite worth in it,—of infinite fulness, and therefore his emptiness is of infinite price of infinite glory, and so his shame is equivalent to the shame and malediction of all mankind. So then, whatsoever thou apprehendest of thy own sins or God’s holiness, that seemeth to render thy pardon difficult, lay but in the balance with that first, the free and rich expression of the infinite love of God, in sending such an one for a ransom, and sure, that speaks as much to his readiness and willingness, as if a voice spake it just now from heaven, and then, to take away all scruple, lay the infinite worth of his person, who is the propitiation, with thy sins, and it will certainly outweigh them, so that thou mayest be fully quieted, and satisfied in that point, that it is as easy for him to pardon, as for thee to confess sin and ask pardon, nay that he is more ready to give it thee, than thou to ask it.

But, in the next place I desire you to look upon this as the greatest incentive of affection. O how should it inflame your hearts to consider, that such an one became a sacrifice for our sins, to think that angels hath not such a word to comfort themselves withal! Those innumerable companies of angels, who left their station, and were once in dignity above us have not such glad tidings to report one to another in their societies, as we have. They cannot say, “He is the propitiation for our sins.” This is the wonderful mystery, that blessed “angels desire to look into.” They gaze upon it, and fix the eyes of their admiration upon “God manifested in the flesh,” wondering at the choice of mortal man, before immortal spirits, that he is a ransom for them, and not for their own brethren who left their station. How should this endear him to our souls, and his will to our hearts, who hath so loved us, and given himself for us! Hath he given himself for us, and should we deny ourselves to him, especially when we consider what an infinite disparity is between the worth and difference in the advantage of it. He gave his blessed self a sacrifice, he offered himself to death for us, not to purchase any thing to himself, but life to us. And what is it he requires but your base and unworthy self,—to offer up your lusts and sins in a sacrifice by mortification, and your hearts and affections in a thanksgiving offering, wherein your own greatest gain lies too? For this is truly to find and save yourselves, thus to quit yourselves to him.

The efficacy of this is holden out in the word, “propitiation for our sins.” The virtue of Christ’s sacrifice is to pacify justice and make God propitious, that is, favourable and merciful to sinners. In which there are three considerable things imported. One is that sin is the cause of enmity between God and man, and sets us at an infinite distance—that sin is a heinous provocation of his wrath. Another is expressed, that Christ is the propitiation,—in opposition to that provocation, he pacifies wrath, and then conciliates favour by the sacrifice of himself. All the expressions of the gospel import the damnable and deplorable estate that sin puts man into, _reconciliation_ imports the standing enmity and feud between God and man, _propitiation_ imports the provocation of the holy and just indignation of God against man, the fuel whereof is our sins, _justification_ implies the lost and condemned estate of a sinner, under the sentence and curse of the law. All that is in the gospel reminds us of our original, of the forlorn estate in which he found us, none pitying us nor able to help us. I would desire that this might first take impression on your hearts,—that sin sets God and man at infinite distance, and not only distance, but disaffection and enmity. It hath sown the seeds of that woful discord, and kindled that contention, which, if it be not quenched by the blood of Christ, will burn to everlasting, so that none can dwell with it, and yet sinners must dwell in it. There is a provoking quality in it, fit to alienate the holy heart of God, and to incense his indignation, which, when once it is kindled who can stand before it? Do but consider what you conceive of wrongs done to you, how they stir your passions and provoke your patience so that there is much ado to get you pacified, and what heinousness must then be in your offences against God, both in regard of number and kind? O that you could but impartially weigh this matter, you would find, that in the view of God all wrongs and injuries between men evanish. “Against thee, thee only, have I sinned.” That relation and respect of sin to God, exhausts all other respects of injuries towards men. It is true, that his Majesty is free from passion, and is not commoved and troubled as your spirits are. Yet such is the provoking nature of sin, that it cries for vengeance, and brings a sinner under the dreadful sentence of divine wrath, which he both pronounceth and can execute without any inward commotion or disturbance of spirit. But, because we conceive of him after our manner, therefore he speaks in such terms to us. But that which he would signify by it is, that the sinner is in as dreadful and damnable a condition by sin, as if the Lord were mightily inflamed with anger and rage. The just punishment is as due and certain as if he were subject to such passions as we are, and so much the more certain, that he is not. Now I desire you to consider, how mightily the heinousness of sin is aggravated, partly by the quality of the persons, and partly by the consideration of his benefits to us. A great man resents a light wrong heavily, because his person makes the wrong heavier. O! what do you think the Most High should do considering his infinite distance from us, his glorious majesty and greatness, his pure holiness, his absolute power and supremacy? What vile and abominable characters of presumption and rebellion do all these imprint upon disobedience! Shall he suffer himself to be despised and neglected of men, when there is no petty creature above another, but will be jealous of his credit, and vindicate himself from contempt? And then, when ingratitude is mingled in with rebellion, it makes sin exceeding sinful, and sinful sin exceeding provoking. To proclaim open war against the holy and righteous will of him to whom we owe ourselves, and all that we are or have, to do evil, because he is good, and be unthankful, because he is kind to take all his own members, faculties, creatures, and employ them as instruments of dishonour against himself, there is here fuel for feeding everlasting indignation, there is no indignity, no vileness, no wickedness to this. All the provocations of men, how just soever, are in the sight of this groundless and vain, like a child’s indignation. All are but imaginary injuries, consisting but in opinion, in regard of that which sin hath in the bosom of it against God.

But how shall any satisfaction be made for the injury of sin? What shall pacify his justly deserved anger? Here is the question indeed, that would have driven the whole world to a _nonplus_, if once the majesty and holiness of God had been seen. But the ignorance of God’s greatness, and men’s sinfulness, made the world to fancy some expiations of sin, and satisfactions to God, partly by sacrifices of beasts, partly by prayer, and repentance for sins.

Sermon XXVIII.

1 John ii. 3.—“And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep
his commandments.”

This age pretends to much knowledge beyond former ages, knowledge, I say, not only in other natural arts and sciences, but especially in religion. Whether there be any great advancement in other knowledge, and improvement of that which was, to a further extent and clearness, I cannot judge, but I believe there is not much of it in this nation, nor do we so much pretend to it. But, we talk of the enlargements of divine knowledge, and the breaking up of a clearer light in the point of religion, in respect of which we look on former times, as the times of ignorance and darkness, which God winked at. If it were so indeed, I should think the time happy, and bless the days we live in, for as many sour and sad accidents as they are mixed withal. Indeed, if the variety of books, and multiplicity of discourses upon religion, if the multitude of disputes about points of truth, and frequency of sermons, might be held for a sufficient proof of this pretension, we should not want store enough of knowledge and light. But, I fear that this is not the touchstone of the Holy Ghost, according to which we may try the truth of this assertion, that this is not the rule, by which to measure either the truth, or degrees of our knowledge, but for all that, we may be lying buried in Egyptian darkness, and while such a light seems to shine about us our hearts may be a dungeon of darkness, of ignorance of God and unbelief, and our ways and walk full of stumblings in the darkness. I am led to entertain these sad thoughts of the present times from the words of the apostle, which give us the designation of a true Christian, to be the knowledge of God, and the character of his knowledge, to be obedience to his commands. If, according to this level, we take the estimate of the proportion of our knowledge and light, I am afraid lest there be found as much ignorance of God, and darkness, as we do foolishly fancy that we have of light. However, to find it, will be some breaking up of light in our hearts, and to discover how little we know indeed upon a solid account, will be the first morning star of that Sun of righteousness, which will shine more and more to the perfect day. Therefore we should labour to bring our light to the lamp of this word, and our knowledge to this testimony of unquestionable authority, that having recourse “to the law and to the testimony,” we may find if there be light in us or so much light as men think they see. If we could but open our eyes to the shining light of the scripture, I doubt not but we should be able to see that which few do see, that is, that much of the pretended light of this age is darkness and ignorance. I do not speak of errors only that come forth in the garments of new light, but especially of the vulgar knowledge of the truth of religion, which is far adulterated from the true metal and stamp of divine knowledge, by the intermixture of the gross darkness of our affections and conversation, as that other is from the naked truth, and therefore both of them are found light in the balance of the sanctuary, and counterfeit by this touchstone of obedience.

To make out this examination the better I shall endeavour to open these three things unto you, which comprehend the words. 1st, That the knowledge of God in Jesus Christ is the most proper designation of a Christian, “Hereby we know that we know him,” which is as much as to say that we are true Christians,—2dly, That the proper character of true knowledge is obedience, or conscionable practising of what we know,—and then, lastly, That the only estimate or trial of our estate before God, is made according to the appearance of his work in us and not by immediate thrusting ourselves into the secrets of God’s hidden degrees. “Hereby we know,” &c. Here then, in a narrow circle we have all the work and business of a Christian. His direct and principal duty is to know God, and keep his commands, which are not two distinct duties as they come in a religious consideration, but make up one complete work of Christianity, which consists in conformity to God. Then the reflex and secondary duty of a Christian, which makes much for his comfort, is, to know that he knows God. To know God, and keep his commands, is a thing of indispensable necessity to the being of a Christian, to know that we know him is of great concernment to the comfort and well being of a Christian. Without the first, a man is as miserable as he can be, without the sense and feeling of misery, because he wants the spring and fountain of all happiness; without the second, a Christian is unhappy, indeed, for the present, though he may not be called miserable, because he is more happy than he knows of, and only unhappy, because he knows not his happiness.

For the first, then, knowledge is a thing so natural to the spirit of a man, that the desire of it is restless and insatiable. There is some appetite of it in all men, though in the generality of people (because of immersedness in earthly things, and the predominancy of corrupt lusts and affections, which hinder most men’s souls to wait upon that more noble inquiry after knowledge, in which only a man really differs from a beast) there be little or no stirring that way, yet some finer spirits there are, that are unquiet this way, and, with Solomon, give themselves, and apply their hearts to search out wisdom. But this is the curse of man’s curiosity at first, in seeking after unnecessary knowledge, when he was happy enough already, and knew as much of God and his works as might have been a most satisfying entertainment of his spirit, I say, for that wretched aim, we are to this day deprived of that knowledge which man once had, which was the ornament of his nature and the repast of his soul. As all other things are subdued under a curse for sin, so especially this which man had is lost, in seeking that which he needed not, and the track of it is so obscured and perplexed, the footsteps of it are so indiscernible, and the way of it is like a bird in the air, or a ship in the sea, leaving us few helps to find it out, that most part of men lose themselves in seeking to find it, and therefore, in all the inquiries and searchings of men after the knowledge even of natural things that come under our view, there is at length nothing found out remarkable, but the increase of sorrow, and the discovery of ignorance, as Solomon saith, Eccles. i. 18. This is all the jewel that is brought up from the bottom of this sea, when men dive deepest into it, for the wisest of men could reach no more, though his bucket was as long as any man’s, chap. vii. 23. “I said, I will be wise, but it was far from me, that which is far off and exceeding deep, who can find it out?” Knowledge hath taken a far journey from man’s nature, and hath not left any prints behind it to find it out again, but, as it were, hath flown away in an instant, and therefore we may ask, with Job, chap. xxviii. ver. 1, 12, “Surely there is a vein for the silver,” etc. “But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding?” What Utopian isles is she transported unto, that mortal men, the more they seek her, find more ignorance,—the further they pursue, they see themselves at the further distance? Thus it is in those things that are most obvious to our senses, but how much more in spiritual and invisible things is our darkness increased, because of the dulness and earthiness of our spirits that are clogged with a lump of flesh! For God himself, that should be the _primum intelligibile_ of the soul, the first and principal object, whose glorious light should first strike into our hearts, Job testifies “how little a portion is known of him.” When we cannot so much as understand “the thunder of his power,” that makes such a sensible impression on our ears, and makes all the world to stand and hearken to it, then how much less shall we conceive the invisible Majesty of God? In natural things, we have one vail of darkness in our minds to hinder us, but in the apprehension of God, we have a twofold darkness to break through, the darkness of ignorance in us, and “the darkness of too much light” in him—_caliginem nimiæ lucis,_ which makes him as inaccessible to us as the other, the over-proportion of that glorious majesty of God to our low spirits, being as the sun in its brightness to a night owl, which is dark midnight to it. Hence it is, that those holy men who know most of God, think they know least, because they see more to be known but infinitely surpassing knowledge. Pride is the daughter of ignorance only, “and he that thinketh he knoweth anything knoweth nothing as he ought to know,” saith the apostle, 1 Cor. viii. 2. For he that knoweth not his own ignorance, if he know never so much, is the greatest ignorant, and it is a manifest evidence that a man hath but a superficial touch of things and hath never broken the shell, or drawn by the vail of his own weakness and ignorance, that doth not apprehend deeply the unsearchableness of God, and his mysteries, but thinketh he hath in some measure compassed them, because he maketh a system of divinity, or setteth down so many conclusions of faith, and can debate them against adversaries, or because he hath a form and model of divinity, as of other sciences, in his mind. Nay, my beloved, holy Job attained to the deepest and fullest speculation of God, when he concluded thus, “Because I see thee, I abhor myself,” and as Paul speaks, “If any man love God he is known of God, and so knows God,” 1 Cor. viii. 3. From which two testimonies I conclude, that the true knowledge of God consists not so much in a comprehension of all points of divinity, as in such a serious apprehension and conception of the divine Majesty as enkindles and inflames these two affections, love and hatred, towards their proper objects, such a knowledge as carries the torch before the affection, such a light as shines into the heart, as Paul’s phrase is, 2 Cor. iv. 6, and so transmits heat and warmness into it, till it make the heart burn in the love of God, and loathing of himself. As long as a man doth but hear of God in sermons, or read of him in books, though he could determine all the questions and problems in divinity, he keeps a good conceit of himself, and that “knowledge puffeth up,” and swells a man into a vain tumour, the venom of poison blows him up full of wind and self-confidence, and commonly they who doubt least are not the freest of error and misapprehension. And truly, whoever seriously reflects upon the difficulty of knowledge, and darkness of men’s minds, and the general curse of vanity and vexation that all things are under, so that what is wanting cannot be numbered, nor that which is crooked made straight,—he cannot but look upon too great confidence and peremptoriness in all points, as upon a race at full speed in the dark night, in a way full of pits and snares. Oftentimes our confidence flows not from evidence of truth, but the ignorance of our minds, and is not so much built upon the strength of reason, as the strength of our passions, and weakness of our judgments.

But when once a man comes to see God, and know him in a lively manner, then he sees his own weakness and vileness in that light, and cries out with Isaiah, “Wo is me, I am a man of polluted lips,” and he discerns in that light, the amiableness and loveliness of God that lavisheth his heart after it, and then, as Jeremiah saith, he will not glory in riches, or strength, or beauty, or wisdom, but only in this, that he hath at length gotten some discovery of the only fountain of happiness. Then he will not think so much of tongues and languages, of prophesyings, of all knowledge of controversies, neither gifts of body nor of mind, nor external appendages of providence will much affect him. He would be content to trample on all these, to go over them into a fuller discovery and enjoyment of God himself.

If we search the scriptures, we shall find that they do not entertain us with many and subtile discourses of God’s nature, and decrees, and properties, nor do they insist upon the many perplexed questions that are made concerning Christ and his offices, about which so many volumes are spun out, to the infinite distraction of the Christian world. They do not pretend to satisfy your curiosity, but to edify your souls, and therefore they hold out God in Christ, as clothed with all his relations to mankind, in all those plain and easy properties, that concern us everlastingly,—his justice, mercy, grace, patience, love, holiness, and such like. Now, hence I gather, that the true knowledge of God, consists not in the comprehension of all the conclusions that are deduced, and controversies that are discussed anent these things, but rather, in the serious and solid apprehension of God, as he hath relation to us, and consequently in order and reference to the moving of our hearts, to love, and adore, and reverence him, for he is holden out only in those garments that are fit to move and affect our hearts. A man may know all these things, and yet not know God himself, for to know him, cannot he abstracted from loving of him—“They that know thy name will trust in thee, and so love thee, and fear thee.” For it is impossible but that this will be the natural result, if he be but known indeed, because there is no object more amiable, more dreadful withal, and more eligible and worthy of choice, and therefore, seeing infinite beauty and goodness, and infinite power and greatness, and infinite sufficiency and fulness, are combined together with infinite truth, the soul that apprehends him indeed, cannot but apprehend him as the most ravishing object, and the most reverend too, and, if he do not find his heart suitably affected, it is an evident demonstration that he doth not indeed apprehend him, but an idol. The infinite light, and the infinite life, are simply one, and he that truly without a dream sees the one, cannot but be warmed and moved by the other.

So then, by this account of the knowledge of God, we have a clear discovery that many are destitute of it, who pretend to it. I shall only apply it to two sorts of persons, one is, of those who have it only in their memories, another, of those who have it only in their minds or heads. Religion was once the legitimate daughter of judgment and affection, but now, for the most part, it is only adopted by men’s memories, or fancies. The greatest part of the people cannot go beyond the repetition of the catechism or creed. Not that I would have you to know more: but you do not understand that, only ye repeat words, without the sensible knowledge of the meaning of them; so that if the same matter be disguised with any other form of words, you cannot know it, which showeth, that you have no familiarity with the thing itself, but only with the letters and syllables that are the garments of it. And for others that are of greater capacity, yet, alas! it comes not down to the heart, to the affecting, and moulding, and forming of it. A little light shines into the mind, but your hearts are shut up still, and no window in them. Corrupt affections keep that garrison against the power of the gospel. That light hath no heat of love, or warmness of affection with it, which showeth that it is not a ray or beam of the Sun of righteousness, which is both beautiful for light, and beneficial for influence, on the cold, and dead, frozen hearts of mankind, and by its approaching, makes a spring-time in the heart.

But all men pretend to know God. Such is the self love of men’s hearts, that it makes them blind in judging themselves, therefore the Holy Ghost, as he designs a Christian by the knowledge of God, so he characterizeth knowledge by keeping the commandments. “Hereby we know,” &c. So that religion is not defined by a number of opinions, or by such a collection of certain articles of faith, but rather by practice and obedience to the known will of God; for, as I told you, knowledge is a relative duty, that is, instrumental to something else, and by anything I can see in scripture, is not principally intended for itself, but rather for obedience. There are some sciences altogether speculative, that rest and are complete in the mere knowledge of such objects, as some natural sciences are. But others are practical, that make a further reference of all things they cognosce upon, to some practice and operation. Now, perhaps some may think that the scripture, or divinity, is much of it merely contemplative, in regard of many mysteries infolded in it, that seem nothing to concern our practice. I confess much of that, that is raised out of the scriptures, is such, and therefore it seems a deviation and departure from the great scope and plain intent of the simplicity and easiness of the scriptures, to draw forth with much industry and subtilty, many things of mere speculation and notion, dry and sapless to the affection, and unedifying to our practice, and to obtrude these upon other men’s consciences, as points of religion. I rather think, that all that is in the scriptures, either directly hath the practice of God’s will for the object of it, or is finally intended for that end, either it is a thing that prescribeth our obedience, or else it tends principally to engage our affections, and secure our obedience, and so those strains of elevated discourses of God, his nature and properties, of his works, and all the mysteries infolded in them, are directed towards this end, further than mere knowing of them, to engage the heart of a believer to more love, and reverence, and adoration of God, that so he may be brought more easily and steadily to a sweet compliance, and harmonious agreement to the will of God, in all his ways. Nay, to say a little more, there are sundry physical or natural contemplations of the works of God in scripture, but all these are divinely considered, in reference to the ravishment of the heart of man, with the wisdom, and power, and goodness of God. And this shows us the notable art of religion, to extract affection and obedience to God, out of all natural contemplations, and thus true divinity engraven on the soul, is a kind of mistress science, _architectonica scientia_,(255) that serves itself of all other disciplines(256) of all other points of knowledge. Be they never so remote from practice, in their proper sphere, and never so dry and barren, yet a religious and holy heart can apply them to those divine uses of engaging itself further to God and his obedience: as the Lord himself teacheth us—“Who would not fear thee, O King of nations,” Jer. x.; and, “fear ye not me who have placed the sand,” &c. Jer. v. 22. So praise is extracted, Psal. civ.; and admiration, verses 1, 83. So submission and patience under God’s hand is often pressed in Job. Therefore, if we only seek to know these things that we may know them, that we may discourse on them, we disappoint the great end and scope of the whole scriptures; and we debase and degrade spiritual things as far as religion exalts natural things in the spiritual use. We transform it into a carnal, empty, and dead letter, as religion, where it is truly, spiritualizeth earthly and carnal things into a holy use. &c.

HEART-HUMILIATION

Or, Miscellany Sermons, Preached Upon Some Choice Texts, At Several Solemn Occasions.

To The Reader.

_Christian Reader_,

This holy preacher of the gospel had so many convictions upon his spirit of the necessity of the duties of humiliation and mourning, and of people’s securing the eternal interest of their souls for the life to come, by flying into Jesus Christ for remission of sins in his blood, that he made these the very scope of his sermons in many public humiliations, as if it had been the one thing which he conceived the Lord was calling for in his days; a clear evidence whereof thou shall find manifested in these following sermons upon choice texts, wherein the author endeavoureth, not only to lay before thee the necessity of these duties of soul humiliation, but also showeth thee the gospel manner of performing them, the many soul advantages flowing from the serious exercise of them, and the many soul-destroying prejudices following upon the neglect of them, but above all, thou shalt find him so fully setting forth the sinfulness of sin, and the utter emptiness of self, as may convince the most pharisaically elated spirits, and make them cry out with Ezra, chap. ix. 6, “O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God, for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is grown up unto the heavens.” Here thou mayest read such pregnant demonstrations of the righteousness and equity of the Lord’s dealing, even in his severest punishments inflicted upon the children of men, as may silence every whisperer against providence, and make them say, as Lam. iii. 22, “It is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, even because his compassions fail not.” And lastly, thou shalt perceive the inconceivable fitness and fulness of Christ as a Saviour, and his never enough to be admired tenderness and condescending willingness to accept of humble, heart broken, and heart-panting sinners after him, with such plainness of speech demonstrated, as may enable the most bruised reed to quench all the fiery darts of the devil, whereby he laboureth to affright them from making application to Jesus for salvation. Now that the Lord would make those and such-like labours of his faithful servants useful and advantageous to thy soul, Christian reader, is the prayer of thy servant in the gospel of our dearest Lord and Saviour.

Sermon I.

At A Public Fast In July, First Sabbath, 1650.(257)

Deut. xxxii. 4-7.—“He is the Rock, his work is perfect, for all
his ways are judgment,” &c.

There are two things which may comprehend all religion,—the knowledge of God and of ourselves. These are the principles of religion, and are so nearly conjoined together, that the one cannot be truly without the other, much less savingly. It is no wonder that Moses craved attention, and that, to the end he may attain it from an hard hearted deaf people, he turns to the heavens and to the earth,—as it were to make them the more inexcusable. The matter of his song is both divine and necessary. Throughout it all, he insists upon these two,—to discover what they were in themselves, and what God was to them. He parallels their way with his way, that they, finding the infinite distance, might have other thoughts of themselves and of him both. It is a song, it is true, but a sad song. The people of God’s mourning should be of this nature,—mixed, not pure sorrow. It is hard to determine whether there be more matter of consolation or lamentation, when such a comparison is made to the life, when God’s goodness and our evils are set before our eyes, which may most work the heart to such affections. Nay, I think it possible they may both contribute to both these. Is there any more abasing and humbling principle than love? How shall the sinner loathe himself in his glorious presence? Will not so much kindness and mercy, so often repeated, as oft as it is mentioned, wound the heart in which there is any tenderness? And, again, when a soul beholds its own ingratitude and evil requital of the Lord’s kindness, how vile and how perverse it is, how must it loathe itself in dust and ashes! Yet is not all ground of hope removed. Such a sad sight may make mixed affections. If we be so perverse and evil, then he is infinitely good, and his mercy and goodness are above our evils; if we have dealt so with him, yet is he the Rock that changes not, he is a God of truth, and will not fail in his promise. Nay, though it be sad to be so evil, void of all goodness, yet may the soul bless him for evermore, that he hath chosen this way to glorify his name, to build up his praise upon our ruin. May not a soul thus glory in sad infirmities, because his strength is perfected in them, and made manifest? May not a soul choose emptiness in itself, that it may be beholden to his fulness? How refreshing a view might the saddest look on our misery and emptiness be, if we did behold his purpose of manifesting his glory in it! You see here a comparison instituted between two very unequal parties, God and man; there is no likeness, let be equality in it, yet there is almost an equality in unlikeness. The one is infinitely good and perfect; well, what shall we compare to him? Who is like thee, O God, among the gods? Angels’ goodness, their perfection and innocency, hath not such a name and appearance in his sight. So then, there can be no comparison made this way. Let no flesh glory in his sight in anything, but, “let him that glorieth, glory in the Lord,” for in the sight of the glorious Lord, all things do disappear and evanish. But surely nothing, though most perfect, can once come within terms of reckoning beside him for any worth. Moses sees nothing to set beside God, that will appear in its own greatness and native colours, but the creatures’ evil and sin; and if this be not infinite absolutely, or equal to his goodness, yet it comes nearest the borders of infiniteness. So then, is God most perfect? Is he infinite in goodness, in truth, in righteousness, &c.—and so infinite, that before him nothing appears good?—“There is none good save one, that is God.” Yet we may find another infinite, and it is in evil sinful man; and these two contraries set beside other, do much illustrate each other. It is true that his grace superabounds, and his goodness is more than the creatures’ sinfulness; yet, I say, you shall not find anything that cometh nearer the infiniteness and degrees of his goodness, than the sinfulness of men. How much the more glorious he appears, so much the more vile and base doth it appear.

If ye did indeed ponder and weigh these two verses in the balance of the sanctuary, would not your heart secretly ask this question within you, Do I thus requite the Lord? O foolish and unwise! Yea, would you not account yourselves mad, to forsake the fountain of living waters, and dig broken cisterns to yourselves? O of how great moment were this to humble yourselves to-day! This day ye are called to mourning and afflicting your souls. Now, I know not a more suitable exercise for a day of humiliation, or a principle that may more humble and abase your souls, than the serious and deep consideration of these two,—what God is, and hath been to us, and what we are, and have proved to him; what hath made so many formal humiliations that have provoked him to anger? Certainly we do not either seriously think on any of these, or if one of them, yet not on both. The most part of you know no more in such a day, but a name and ceremony of a little abstinence. Is this to sanctify a day to the Lord,—when ye do not so much as the people who bowed down their head for a day, and spread sackcloth under them? I wonder how ye think to pacify his wrath, and are not rather afraid of adding fuel and oil to the flame of his indignation. Ye come here and sit as in former times, and what do ye more either here or at home? There is no soul-affliction, no, not for a day. The most part of you are no more affected with your sins and his judgments, than if none of these things were. Now, I pray you, what shall the Lord say to us, when he speaks to the Jews in such terms, Isa. lviii. 5,—“Is it such a fast that I have chosen, a day for a man to afflict his soul?” And do ye so much as afflict it for a day, or at all? Is this then the fast that he will choose, to abstain from your breakfast in the morning, and at night to compensate the want of it, and no more?(258) Is this an acceptable day to the Lord? The Lord upbraids the Jews, “Wilt thou call this a fast?” And what reason have we to ask you, is it possible ye think ye do indeed fast to the Lord? I cannot think that the most part of you dare say, that ever ye fasted or afflicted your souls.

Always here is the way, if we consider it. To spend a day acceptably to the Lord, enter into a serious consideration of his Majesty, and yourselves. Study on these two till ye find your hearts bear the stamp of them, enlarge your hearts in the thoughts of them. Both are infinite,—his goodness and power and mercy, and your sin and misery,—no end of them. Whatever ye find good in God, write up answerably to it, so much evil and sin in yourselves and the land; and what evil ye find in yourselves and the land, write up so much goodness and mercy in his account. All the names of his praise would be so many grounds of your confusion in yourselves, and would imprint so many notes of reproach and disgrace upon the creature found so contrary to him. This is even the exercise God calls us to this day,—to consider his ways to us, and our ways to him; how he hath walked, and how we have walked. Because ye lose the sight of these two, he sends affliction,—because in our prosperity and peace we forget God, and so ourselves; as ye find this people did, “when they waxed fat they kicked against him, and forgat that he was their Rock.” We are so much taken up with our own ease and peace, that we do not observe him in his dealings; therefore doth the Lord trouble our peace, remove those things we are taken up with, make a public proclamation of affliction, and blessed be his name whose end is gracious. He means this,—it is the proclamation of all his judgments,—turn your eyes off your present ease here, consider what I am, and what yourselves are. No nation so soon buries the memory of his mercies, O how soon are they drowned in oblivion! And we forget our own provocations as suddenly. Therefore must he write our iniquities upon a rod, that we may read them in great letters; and he writes his former goodness in the change of his dispensations, when his way to us changes, that we may know what is past. This is the great design that God hath in the world,—to declare himself and his own name, that it may be wondered and admired at by men, and this cannot be but by our ruin, abasing us in the dust. He therefore uses to stain the pride of all glory, that his alone may appear without spot. This is then the great controversy of God with men and nations in all generations. They will not see him alone exalted, and will not bow before him, and see their own vileness. Why doth he overturn kingdoms and thrones? Why doth he shake nations so often? Here it is; God’s controversy will never cease, till all men acknowledge him in his highness and holiness, as the sole fountain of all life, and find themselves vile, less than nothing, nay, worse than nothing, and emptiness. If ye would then have God at peace with the land and yourselves, here is the compendious way,—set him up a throne of eminency in your hearts, and put yourselves in the dust, take with your own guiltiness and naughtiness, and impossibility to help yourselves in yourselves. Hold these two still in your eyes, that he may be alone exalted.

Look how unequal a match, ver. 4, 5, “He is the Rock,” a rock indeed! If we speak of strength, lo! he is strong; if of stability, he is the Lord, and changes not, “the Ancient of days.” Hast not thou heard and considered this, that the Almighty faints not, and wearies not? He holds forth himself in such a name to his people, a ready, all-sufficient, perpetual, and enduring refuge to all that trust in him, and fly unto him as a rock higher than they. And this is the foundation that the church is builded on, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. God’s omnipotency is for defence, his eternity, faithfulness, and unchangeableness to make that sure. His mercy and goodness makes a hole in that rock to enter in, a ready access for poor shipwrecked and broken men, who have no other refuge. This is our rock, on which the church is builded, Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. x. 4.; Matt. xvi. 18. Were God inaccessible in himself, an impregnable rock, how would sinners overcome him, and enter in to him to be saved from wrath? Nay but Jesus Christ hath made a plain way and path, out of the waves of sin and misery, into this rock higher than we; and so the poor soul that is lost in its own eyes, and sees no refuge, is forced to quit the broken ship of created confidence, for fear of perishing. Here doth it find a door in this rock to enter. And there is water to drink of, “a fountain of living waters” comes out of it, and that is Christ.

Now, all these names of his praise rub so many marks of shame on his people. O how sad is the secret reproof and expostulation contained in this commendation of God! He hath been a rock to us, our refuge that we fled unto, and found sure; for as, in our straits, we mounted upon his power and were supported, when “the floods lifted up their waves,” yet have we left our rock, gone out from our strength. He offers himself a rock unto us, his fulness and all-sufficiency for us, and yet we leave the fountain of living waters, and dig broken cisterns, had rather choose our own broken ships in which to toss up and down. He abides for ever the same; though we change, he changes not. How may it reprove our backslidings, that we depart from our rock! And where shall we find a refuge in the day of indignation? Is there any created mountain, but some floods of the time will cover? Therefore it is folly and madness to forsake this rock that is still above the floods; “he is mightier than the noise of many waters.” It may reprove our unbelief,—we change our faith according to his dispensation, our faith ebbs and flows as the tide of his providence, and thus we are as sticks floating in the water, tossed up and down. But would ye be established as mount Sion? Would ye be unmoveable in the midst of great waters, that they shall not come near unto you? Then, by all means get upon this rock, that abides unmoved in the midst of the waves. Though they should beat upon it, and the wind blow, yet it is proof of all tempests. All things might be driven up and down about you with the Lord’s dispensation, but ye should abide the same, and might look round about you on the troubled sea of men’s minds, of lands and estates. If you come here, ye may make shipwreck, but ye shall not drown; though ye lose the creature’s comfort and defence, yet ye are on your rock, which is established before the rocks and mountains. You may be sure of salvation. He that made the rocks and winds and seas, is your rock.