Chapter VII: Part 7

Or at such a season as this, when we get near to God in prayer, if we think of any of the creatures, it is all in order to the honour of God. If I think of a brother, or father, or child, “O may they all be instruments in thine hand, for thy honour here among men, and for ever among blessed angels!” The soul does not ask for riches and glories on earth for them: but, “May they live in thy sight, O Lord!” If it thinks of the comforts of life, or the blessings of prosperity, “O let holiness to the Lord be written upon them all; for I would not have one of them, but what may subserve thine honour in the world.” If the soul thinks of its pains, and sorrows, and reproaches, it longs for the sanctification of them at present, and the removal of them in due season, that it may serve its God the better. Thus the soul is, as it were, taken out of self, when it gets near to God.

“Let me have the conveniences of life, (says the christian,) not so much for my ease, as that I may better advance thine honour.” The soul grows weaned from self at such a time; it breaks out of the narrow circle of self, when it gets nigh to God. If it thinks of the ministry or of ordinances, “Lord, let that ministry be for the advancement of thy name! Lord, let these ordinances be for the increase of thy glory in the world, for the advancement of grace in my heart, and bring me nearer to heaven! If it thinks of the kingdom, or the parliament, powers or princes in this world, it is with this design, that God may be glorified in the courts of princes, and in parliaments, and honoured in armies and nations known and unknown.” Thus the soul always keeps within sight of God: it still keeps all its designs within the circle of God, and aims still at the glories of its Heavenly Father. If it thinks of life or of death, “I would not ask life, says the saint, but to glorify thee; nor death, but to glorify thee better, and to enjoy more of thee.” Thus when the soul is near to God, it is in a divine light that it sees all things, it is still with a design for God; and when it indulges the thoughts toward any creature, it is without turning aside a moment from its God. Thus carnal things are taken into the mind, and spritualized by the presence of God, the infinite Spirit, when the soul approaches so near to his seat.

VI. There will then be a fixedness of heart in duty without wandering, and liveliness without tiring. At other times of common and usual worship, when the saint is in too formal and in too cold a frame, the heart roves perpetually, and is soon weary; but when we get near to God, then we have a little emblem of heaven within us, where they worship God day and night without interruption, and without weariness. When we wait upon God at this rate, we are still mounting up higher and higher, as with eagles’ wings; we walk first without fainting, and then run without wearying, at last, we fly as an eagle, and make haste to the fuller possession of our God; Is. xl. 31. The soul is then detained in the presence of God with overpowering delight, and it cannot be taken away from the object of its dearest satisfaction. This is a joy above all other joys, above all the joys of sense, above all the joys of the intellectual world that are not divine and holy. There are some pleasures that arise from philosophical and intellectual notions, that are superior to the pleasures of sense; but the pleasure of being near to God in devotion, far transcends all these. Animal nature, at such a season, may be worn out, and faint and die under it; but the mind is not weary. It is possible for divine transports to rise so high as to break this feeble frame of flesh, and dissolve it; and there have been instances of persons that have been near to a dissolution of mortality under the power of divine ecstacies: but the soul has not been faint, has felt no weariness.

There are at such a season most pleasurable thoughts of heaven; there are some bright glimpses of that blessed state when a christian attains this nearness to God; for heaven is a state of nearness to God everlasting and uninterrupted: nor are the blessed inhabitants of that world ever weary of their company or their business; and thus, when there is any thing akin to heaven brought down to the saints in this mortal state, they know it cannot be uninterrupted and perpetual; and therefore there is a desire of frequent returns of such seasons as these are, while they are here on earth. And as Christ, the bridegroom, speaks to his saints in the language of Solomon, _Let me see thy face_ often, _my spouse, my beloved, let me hear thy voice_; Song ii. 44. and viii. 13. So the saint says to his God at such a season, “O may I often see thy face in this manner, may I often hear such a voice as this is from thee, for I know not how to live without it. Flee, my beloved Saviour, and make haste to a speedy return, and let there be an uninterrupted and everlasting converse between God and my soul.”

Lastly, There is at such a season oftentimes a pouring out of the soul before God with some freedom in the gift, as well as the grace of prayer. Mere sighs and groans are for persons at a distance; but when we get near to God, we speak to him even in his ear; and the heart is full, and the tongue overflows. I grant there may be the spirit of prayer assisting a poor soul that cannot get near to God, but still cries after him when he is hidden, and expresses itself only in sighs and in groans unutterable; so the apostle tells us; Rom. viii. 26. _The spirit itself maketh intercession in us with groanings that cannot be uttered._ And thus it may be, while God hides himself, while there is a veil concealing God from our eyes, while there is any special temptation like a mountain that separates between God and our souls, he may send his Spirit to work us up to earnest desires and longings after him.

But when this SPIRIT OF PRAYER has brought the soul near, when God has been pleased to turn aside the veil, to remove the mountain, and to discover himself in all his glory, beauty, and love, then there will be generally the gift of prayer also in exercise by the assistance of the promised Spirit; and such persons many times are able to address themselves to God with much freedom, and to pour out the soul before God in proper words, notwithstanding at other times they appear to have but weak capacities. When they have such affecting sights of their own sin and guilt, and such surprizing views of the mercy of God manifested to them in particular, and at the same time when they look upon all things round them with a design for the glory of God; they are both naturally and divinely taught to pour out their souls before God, and represent their cares and circumstances to him in affecting language.

I will not say indeed, it is always so when any soul gets near to God; there must be some allowance made for the different tempers and constitutions, as I shall shew immediately. There have also been some instances of holy men, whose voice has, at such a time, been overpowered with divine pleasure, all their powers have been transported and overwhelmed with rapturous silence; but for the most part holy souls have found an uncommon liberty of language at the throne of grace at such seasons. And this is one reason, I am persuaded, why the gift of prayer is not so common a thing as might be wished, because there is so little nearness to God among the professors of our day. The gift of prayer abounds not among christians in our churches; O that I could say it was found more gloriously among ministers, while in your name we speak to the great God! But if there were a constant laborious diligence in the soul to get nearer to God, in all our secret as well as public addresses to him, we should find more abundance of the gift of prayer poured down upon us by the Spirit, as well as brighter evidences of every praying grace.

I must conclude this discourse before I proceed to the other heads which were proposed; but I would not willingly leave it without a caution or two, and one reflection. The first caution is this: Let not the humble mourning christian, who walks carefully with God, under much darkness and fear, charge himself with utter distance and estrangement from the throne of grace, because he does not feel all these sacred passions and powers of nature in lively exercise, while he bows his knees before the Lord: for I have described this blessed privilege in the sublime glory and beauty of it, so as it has been often attained and enjoyed by persons eminent in grace and religion, and especially such as have had lively affections, and the powers of animal nature in a good degree sanctified, and subservient to the devotions of the soul. But where the natural spirits are low and sinking, and where temptations and darkness hang heavy upon the mind, the christian may truly draw near to God, so far as to find a gracious acceptance with him, and may fetch secret divine communications from the mercy-seat to maintain his spiritual life; though he feels but little of these sensations of heavenly pleasure, these more vigorous efforts of devotions and joy. Yet let him neither deny nor despise those more elevated enjoyments of soul, those near and blessed approaches to the seat of God, with which others have been favoured.

The second caution shall be addressed to those, who feel much of rapture and transport in their hours of secret piety. I entreat that they would not imagine themselves so often to enjoy this unspeakable privilege of holy nearness to God in worship, if they do not sensibly find such an increase of holiness, as may prove effectually that they have been with God. If they have been conversing with their Maker, like Moses on the mount, there will be a shine of holiness upon the face of their souls. To pretend therefore to have enjoyed much of God in the closet, and to come down amongst men peevish and fretful, or immediately to betray a carnal and covetous, or a haughty and untractable spirit; these are things of so inconsistent a nature, that the succeeding iniquity spoils the devotion, and almost destroys the pretence to any sublime degrees of it. Such persons had need look well to themselves and make a narrow search within, whether their hearts be sincere with God or no, lest they build all their hopes upon the flashy efforts of animal nature, coupled with the thoughts of some sacred objects, and tacked on to a divine meditation.

Reflection.—What a wretched hindrance is this world to our christian profit and pleasure! How often does it keep the soul at a sad distance from God! With what difficulty and uneasy reluctance, are we sometimes drawn, or rather dragged into retirement, that the soul may seek after God there? How many excuses doth the flesh borrow from the cares and necessities of this life, to delay, or to divert the duty of prayer? Our memory, our imagination, and our senses, are faithful purveyors and treasurers for the world; they are representing to us the things of this present state, the trifles or the businesses, the cares or amusements of it, the labours or delights which relate to this life; and thereby we are diverted and separated from God, and called away from him often, as soon as we begin to approach his presence.

What a pernicious enemy is this flesh to the soul, both in the pleasures and the pains of it! and this world, both in the flatteries and the frowns of it, and even in its necessary cares! When we would give our God the upper-room in our hearts, how is this world ready to get the ascendant! How often does it break in upon our most sacred retirements, and thrust itself, with all its impertinencies, into our holy meditations? How often does it spread a carnal scene all over our thoughts at once, and spoil our devoutest hours? “I cannot dwell so long in my closet as I would, says a christian, the world has such importunate demands upon me.” The world follows us, into our places of retirement; the exchange, or the shop, presses into the temple, and robs God even to his face.

Let us then have a care of the flesh: let us have a care of this world; we must be watchful over them as our most subtle and dangerous enemies, if we would keep our souls near to God, or often enjoy this divine privilege. Blessed Enoch! who could walk with God in the midst of all the busy and vicious scenes of the old world! and he was translated to heaven, without calling at the gates of death, that he might give a glorious testimony to men how well God was pleased with him. Happy soul! that could keep near to God, and maintain a holy and humble converse with him, when all flesh had corrupted its way and the earth was full of iniquity and violence! Blessed man, who knew not what it was to die, but he knew what it was to be near to God; and his faith and his devotion were changed the shortest way into sight and enjoyment! Happy spirit! who without being absent at all from the body, was brought near to the seat of divine Majesty, and in the fullest manner present with the Lord!

HYMN FOR SERMON V.
_The Soul drawing near to God in prayer._

My God, I bow before thy feet,
When shall my soul get near thy seat?
When shall I see thy glorious face,
With mingled majesty and grace?

How shall I love thee and adore,
With hopes and joys unknown before!
And bid this trifling world begone,
Nor teaze my heart so near thy throne!

Creatures with all their charms should fly,
The presence of a God so nigh:
My darling sins should lose their name,
And grow my hatred and my shame.

My soul shall pour out all her cares,
In flowing words, or flowing tears!
Thy smiles would ease my sharpest pain
Nor should I seek my God in vain.

SERMON VI.
_Sins and Sorrows spread before God._
Job xxiii. 3, 4.—O that I knew where I might find him: that I might come
even to his seat; I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth
with arguments.
THE SECOND PART.

There is such a thing as converse with God in prayer, and it is the life and pleasure of a pious soul; without it we are no christians: and he that practises it most, is the best follower of Christ: for our Lord spent much time in converse with his heavenly Father. This is balm that eases the most raging pains of the mind, when the wounded conscience comes to the mercy-seat, and finds pardon and peace there. This is the cordial that revives and exalts our natures, when the spirit, broken with sorrows, and almost fainting to death, draws near to the Almighty Physician, and is healed and refreshed. The mercy-seat in heaven is our surest and sweetest refuge in every hour of distress and darkness on earth: This is our daily support and relief, while we are passing through a world of temptations and hardships in the way to the promised land. _It is good for us to draw near to God_: Ps. lxxiii. 28. And yet so much is human nature sunk down and fallen from God, that even his own children are ready to indulge a neglect of converse with him, if their souls are not always upon the watch. But let it be remembered here, that so much as we abate of this divine entertainment among the vanities or amusements of the world, the business or burdens of life; so much we lose of the glory and joy of religion, and deprive our souls of the comfort that God invites us to receive. Job was encompassed with sorrows all around, and his friends had censured him as a vile hypocrite, and a great sinner, because he was so terribly afflicted by the hand of God; whither should he run now but to his heavenly Father, and tell him of all his sufferings.

From the practice of this holy man, I thought we might have sufficient warrant to draw this inference, _viz._ That when a saint gets near to God in prayer, he tells him all his circumstances, and pleads for help. And that is the doctrine which I am endeavouring now to improve. “O if I could but come near him, even to his seat, I would order my cause before him: I would spread all my concerns before his eye, and I would plead with him for relief: I would fill my mouth with arguments.”

Four things I proposed in the prosecution of this doctrine.—I. To consider what it is for a soul to get near to God in prayer.—II. What particular subjects doth a soul, thus brought near to the mercy-seat, converse with God about.—III. Why he chuses to tell all his circumstances and his sorrows to God, when he is thus near him.—IV. How he pleads for relief.

I. We have already considered, what it is for a soul to get near to the seat of God, and what are the usual attendants of such a privilege. At such a season the holy soul will have an awful and adoring sense of the majesty of God, a becoming fear of his terrors, and some sweeter taste of his love. There will be a divine hatred of every sin, and a sensible virtue and influence proceeding from a present God, to resist every temptation; there will be a spiritual and heavenly temper diffusing itself through the whole soul, and all the powers of it; a fixedness of heart without wandering, and a liveliness without tiring: no weariness is felt in the spirit at such a season, even though the flesh may be ready to faint under the overpowering sweetness: then the soul with freedom opens itself before the eye of God, and melts and flows in divine language, whether it complain or rejoice. But I have finished this head, and repeat no more.

II. What are some of the particular circumstances, or subjects of complaint, that a saint brings to God when he comes near him.

In general, a saint, when he is near to God, has all the fulness of his heart breaking out into holy language; he pours out his whole self before his God and his Father! All the infinite affairs that relate to the flesh and spirit, to this life, and that which is to come: all things in heaven, and all things in earth, created or uncreated, may, at one time or other, be the subjects of converse between God and a holy soul. When the question is asked by a carnal man, what can a christian talk with God so long and so often about? The christian in a divine frame, answers, “he hath matter enough for converse with God, to wear out time, and to fill up eternity.” It may be as well asked on the other side, what has he not to say? what is there that relates to God, or to himself, to the upper, or the lower world, that he may not at some time say to his God?

But I must confine myself from wandering in so large a field, that I may comport with the design of my text. Though a good man, in devout prayer, often spreads his hopes and his joys before the Lord, as well as his sorrows, fears, and distresses; yet I shall at present endeavour to set forth only the mournful and complaining representations of his circumstances that he makes before the throne of God.

1. If I could but come near the mercy-seat, I would confess how great my sins are, and I would pray for pardoning grace. I would say, “How vile I am by nature;” I would count my original descent from Adam the great transgressor, and humble myself at the foot of a holy God, because I am the descendant of such a sinner.—I would tell him how much viler I have made myself by practice; “I have been an enemy in my mind by nature, and guilty of many wicked works, whereby I have farther estranged myself from him.” I would tell my God how multiplied my transgressions have been before I knew him, and how aggravated they have been since I have been acquainted with him. I would acquaint him with the frequency of my returning guilt, how I have sinned against mercies, against reproofs, against warnings received often from his word, and often from his providence.

I may appeal to the souls of many present, whether they have not had the greatest freedom of confession of their sins, when they have been nearest to God, even though he be a God of holiness. At other times, they have not only been averse to confess to any friend, but even unwilling to talk over to themselves the aggravation of their iniquities, or to mention them in prayer: but when they are brought thus near the throne of God, they unbosom themselves before him, they pour out their sins and their tears together, with a sweet and mournful satisfaction. “I behold,” says the saint, “the great atonement, the blood of Jesus, and therefore I may venture to confess my great iniquities, for the satisfaction is equal to them all. When I behold God upon his seat, I behold the _Lamb in the midst of the throne as it had been slain_, and he is my Peace-maker. I see his all-sufficient sacrifice, his atoning-blood, his perfect, his justifying righteousness.” The soul then answers the call of God with great readiness, when God says in Is. i. 18. _Come let us reason together: though your sins have been as scarlet, they shall be as wool._ “I am ready,” says the soul, “to enter into such reasonings; I am ready to confess before thee, that my sins are all crimson and scarlet, but there is cleansing blood with thy Son: Blood that has washed the garments of a thousand sinners, and made them white as snow; and it has the same virtue still to wash mine too: I trust in it, and rejoice when I behold that blood sprinkled upon the mercy-seat, and therefore I grow confident in hope, and draw yet nearer to God, a reconciled God, since his throne has the memorials of a bleeding sacrifice upon it.”

2. If I could get near the seat of God, I would tell him how many my enemies are, and how strong; how malicious, and how full of rage.——And I would beg strength against them, and victory over them.——I would say as David: _Many there be that hate me, many there be that rise up against me; and many there be that say of my soul, there is no help for him in God; but thou, O God, art my glory, my shield, and the lifter up of head_: Ps. iii. 1, 2, 3. Then says the soul, I would complain to God of all my in-dwelling corruption, of the body of death that dwells in me, or in which I dwell; and say, “O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me!” I would tell him then of the secret working of pride in my heart, though I long to be humble; of the rising of ambition in my soul, though I would willingly maintain a middle state amongst men, and not aim and aspire to be great.—I would acquaint him of the vanity of my own mind, though I am perpetually endeavouring to subdue it. I would tell him, with tears, of my sinful passions, of my anger and impatience, and the workings of envy and revenge in me; of the perpetual stirrings of disorderly appetites, whereby I am led away from my God: I would tell him of the hardness of my heart, and the obstinacy of my temper. I would open before his eye, all the vices of my constitution; all those secret seeds of iniquity that are ever budding and blossoming to bring forth fruit to death. These things are fit to mourn before the Lord, when the soul is come near to his seat.

I would complain of this sore enemy, the world, that is perpetually besetting me, that strikes upon all my senses, that by the ears, and the eyes, and all the outward faculties, draws my heart away from God my best friend. I would tell him of the rage of Satan, that watchful and malicious adversary; that I cannot engage in any duty of worship, but he is ready to throw in some foolish or vain suggestion to divert me; and I would look forward, and point to my last enemy death, and beg the presence of my God with me, when I walk through that dark valley:—“Lord, when I enter into that conflict, assist me, that I may fear no evil, but be made more than a conqueror through him that has loved me.”

3. I would tell him what darkness I labour under, either in respect of faith or practice. If I am perplexed in my mind, and entangled about any of the doctrines of the gospel, I would then tell my God what my entanglements are, where the difficulty lies; and I would beg, that by his Spirit and his word, he would solve the controversy, and set his own truth before me in his own divine light. And then in point of practice, what darkness lies upon the spirit at such a time, is revealed before God: “My way is hedged up, I know not what path to chuse; it is very hard for me to find out my duty; shew me, O Lord, the way wherein I should walk, and mark out my path plain for me.”

4. I would mourn, and tell him, how little converse I have with himself, how much he is hidden from me: I would complain to him, how far off I am from him the most part of my life, how few are the hours of my communion with him, how short is the visit, how much his face is concealed from me, and how far my heart is divided from him. A soul then says, “Surely there is too great a distance between me and my God, my heavenly Father!” and cries out with bitterness, _Why is God so far from me, and why is my heart so far from God?_ How often do I wait upon him in his own sanctuary, and among his saints, but I am not favoured with the sight _of his power and glory_ there! And how often do I seek him in my secret retirements, but I find him not? I would tell him how often I read his promises in the gospel, and taste no sweetness; I go frequently to those wells of consolation, and they seem to be dry; then _I turn my face and go away ashamed_.

5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I got near to God, because they unfit me for his service, they make me incapable of honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for enjoying him in his ordinances: I would tell him how they damp my zeal, how they bow my spirit down, and _make me go mourning all the day long_, to the dishonour of christianity, which is a dispensation of grace and joy. Thus I might complain before God of pains, of weakness, of sickness, of the disorders of my flesh; I might complain there too of the weakness of all my powers, the want of memory, the scatterings and confusions that are upon my thoughts, the wanderings of my fancy, and the unhappy influence that a feeble and diseased body has upon the mind: “O my God, how am I divided from thee, by dwelling in such a tabernacle! still patching up a tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours in a painful attendance on the infirmities of the flesh!”

I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God, all the sorrows and vexations of life, that unhinge my soul from its centre, and throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to daily temptations. I might complain of my reproaches from friends and enemies; because these, many times, wear out the spirit, and unfit it for acts of lively worship. These are my weekly sorrows and groans, these are my daily fears and troubles; and these shall be spread before the eyes of my God, in the happy hour when I get near him.

_Lastly_, I would not go away without a word of pity and complaint concerning my relations, my friends, and acquaintance, that are afar off from God. I would put in one word of petition for them that are careless and unconcerned for themselves: I would weep a little at the seat of God for them: I would leave a tear or two at the throne of mercy, for my dearest relatives in the flesh, for children, brothers or sisters, that they might be brought near to God, in the bonds of the spirit. Then would I remember my friends in Christ, my brethren and kindred in the gospel; such as labour under heavy burdens, languish under various infirmities of life, or groan under the power of strong temptations. When God indulges me the favour of his ear, I would spread their wants and sorrows before him, together with my own, and make supplication for all the saints. I would leave a petition at the mercy-seat for my native country, that knowledge and holiness may overspread the nation: that our king may be a nursing father to the church, and our princes may be blessings to the land. And while I send up my request for the British islands, I would breathe out many a sigh for Zion, that she may be the joy of the whole earth. I proceed now to,

III. The third head of enquiry, which is this: why does a saint, when he gets near to God, delight to tell him all his circumstances, and all his sorrows?

In general I might say this, because it is so seldom, at least in our day, that a saint gets very near to God; therefore, when he finds that happy minute, he says to his God all that he wants to say: he tells him all his heart, he pours out all his wants before him; because these seasons are very few. It is but here and there an extraordinary christian, who maintains constant nearness to God: The best complain of too much distance and estrangement. But to descend to particulars:

1. He is our chief friend, and it is an ease to the soul to vent itself in the bosom of a friend, when we are in his company.—More especially as it was in the case of Job, when other friends failed him when he had begun to tell them some of his sorrows, and withal maintained his own integrity; they would not believe him, but became his troublers instead of his comforters: _My friends scorn me_, says Job, _chap._ xvi. 20. _but mine eye poureth out tears unto God_. I go to my best friend, my friend in heaven, when my friends here on earth neglect me.

Man is a sociable creature, and our joys and our sorrow are made to be communicated, that thereby we may double the one, and alleviate the other. There is scarce any piece of human nature, be it never so stupid, but feels some satisfaction in the pleasure of a friend, in communicating the troubles and the pleasures that it feels; but those that have God for their highest and best friend, they love to be often exercising such acts of friendship with him; and rather with him than with any friend besides, rather with him than with all besides him. This is the noblest and highest friendship; all condescension and compassion on the one side, and all infirmity and dependence on the other, and yet both joined in mutual satisfaction. Amazing grace of God to man! The christian rejoices in this admirable divine indulgence, and delights in all opportunities to employ and improve it.

Besides, this is the way to maintain the vigour of piety, and keep all the springs of divine love ever opening and flowing in his own; therefore he makes many a visit to the mercy-seat, and takes occasion from every troublesome occurrence in life, to betake himself to his knees, and improves every sorrow he meets on earth, to increase his acquaintance with heaven. He delights to talk all his grievances over with his God. Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is a blessed example of this practice; 1 Sam. i. 10. When she was in bitterness of soul, by reason of a sore affliction, and the teazing humour of her rival, she prayed to the Lord, and wept sore: and when she had left her sorrows at the mercy-seat, she went away, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad; ver. 18. So saith the christian, “I commit my sorrows to my God; he is my best friend, and I go away, and am no more sad: I have poured out my cares into his ear, and cast my burdens upon him, and leave them there in peace.”

2. The saint knows God will understand him right, and will judge right concerning his case and his meaning. Though the expressions, it may be, are very imperfect, below the common language of men, and propriety of speech, yet God knows the meaning of the soul; for it is his own spirit that breathes in that soul, and he _knows the mind of his Spirit_; Rom. viii. 27. The friends of Job perverted his sense: Therefore he turns aside to God, for he knows God would understand him. It is a very great advantage, when we spread our concerns before another person, to be well assured that person will take us right, will take in our meaning fully, and judge aright concerning our cause. Now we may be assured of this, when we speak to our God: he _knows our thoughts afar off_, and all circumstances, better infinitely than we can tell him. These our poor imperfect expressions of our wants, shall be no hinderances to his full supplies, nor any bar to his exercise of friendship towards us.

3. A saint pours out his soul before God, because he is sure of secrecy there. How many things are there transacted between God and a holy soul, that relate to guilt and inward workings of iniquity, that he could never publish to the world! and many things also that concern his conduct in life, his embarrassments of spirit, his difficulties, his follies, or the obstinacy, guilt, or follies of his friends or relatives, which prudence and shame forbid him to tell his fellow-creatures; and yet he wants to spread them all before God his best friend, God his dearest relative, the friend nearest to his heart. There may be many circumstances and cases in life, especially in the spiritual life, which one christian could hardly communicate to another, though under the strictest bonds and ties of natural, and civil, and sacred relation: But we may communicate these very affairs, these secret concerns with our God, and unburden our souls of every care without the least public notice.

We cannot be perfectly secure of this with regard to any creature; for when we have experienced the faithfulness of a friend many years, he may possibly be at last unfaithful: Unfaithfulness is mingled with our nature since the fall, and it is impossible any person can be infallibly secure from it: Ps. lxii. 9. _Men of low degree are vanity, and great men are a lie_: but we may leave our case with our God, as secure as though we had communicated it to none: Nay, we may be easily secure and free in speaking, because God knows all before-hand. Our complaint adds nothing to his knowledge, although it eases our souls, and gives us sweet satisfaction in having such a friend to speak to.

4. A saint believes the equity, faithfulness, and the love of God; therefore he spreads his case before him. His equity, that _the judge of all the earth will do right; the righteous may plead with him_. His faithfulness, that he will fulfil all his promises: and his love, that he will take compassion on those who are afflicted; he will be tender to those who are miserable. David takes occasion from this, to address God under his sufferings and sorrows; Ps. lxii. 1, 2. _He is my rock, and my salvation, and my defence, I shall not be moved; therefore mu soul waits upon God; my refuge is in him._ lxv. 1, 2. _He is a God that hears prayer, therefore unto him shall all flesh come._ God will not account our complaints troublesome, though they be never so often repeated; whereas men are quickly wearied with the importunities of those who are poor and needy. Great men are ready to shut their doors against those who come too often for relief; but God delights to hear often from his people, and to have them ask continually at his door for mercy. Though he has Almighty power with him, saith Job, _yet he will not plead against me with his great power: No, but he would put strength in me_; he would teach me how I should answer him; how I should answer his justice, by appeals to his mercy; and how I should speak prevailingly before him.

5. _Lastly_, A saint tells God all his circumstances and sorrows at such a season, because he hopes for relief from him, and from him only; for it is impossible creatures can give relief under any trouble, unless God makes them instruments of relief. And there are some troubles in which creatures cannot be our helpers, but our help must come only from God, and that in a more immediate way. Whatsoever be our distress, whether it arise from past guilt, and the torments of an anxious and troubled conscience; or whether it arise from the working of in-dwelling sin, the strength of temptation, or the violence of temporal afflictions, still God is able and willing to give relief, _Call upon me_, saith the Lord, _In the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me_; Ps. l. 15. _And he hath never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain_; Is. xlv. 19.

IV. The fourth general head of discourse which I proposed, is to shew, How a saint, near the mercy-seat, pleads with God for relief.

Holy Job tells us in this text, that if he was got near to the seat of God, _he would fill his mouth with arguments_. Not as though he would inform God of the necessity, or the justice of his cause beyond what he knew before; no, this is impossible: _He that teacheth man all things, shall he not know?_ Ps. xciv. 9. 10. He who orders all the circumstances of our lives, and every stroke of his own rod, can he be unacquainted with any thing that relates to our sorrows? Nor can we use arguments with God to awaken his ear, or move his compassion, as though he had neglected us, or forgotten our distress; for _all things are_ for ever _naked and open_ before _the eyes of him, with whom we have to do_; Heb. iv. 13. The Shepherd of Israel cannot slumber nor does his mercy want our awakenings.

But in this sort of expressions, the great God condescends to talk, and to transact affairs with us, and permits us to treat him in a way suited to our weakness: He would have us plead and argue with him, that we may shew how deep a sense we have of our own wants, and how entirely we depend on his mercy. Since we cannot converse with him in a way equal to his own majesty and godhead, he stoops to talk with us in such a way as is most agreeable to our state, and most easy to our apprehension: He speaks such language as we can understand, and invites us to humble conference with him in the same way. _Come_, says God to his people, by Isaiah his prophet, _Come now, and let us reason together_; Is. i. 18. And he often, in holy scripture, represents himself as moved and influenced by the prayers and pleadings of his afflicted saints; and he has ordained, before-hand, that the day _when he prepares their hearts to pray_, shall be the day when his _ear shall hear the desire of the humble_, and shall be the season of their deliverance; Ps. x. 17.

If you enquire, how a christian pleads with his God, and whence does he borrow his arguments? I answer, that according to the various sorrows and difficulties which attend him, so various may his pleadings be for the removal of them. There is not a circumstance which belongs to his affliction, but he may draw some argument from it to plead for mercy; there is not one attribute of the divine nature, but he may use it with holy skill, and thereby plead for grace; there is not one relation in which God stands to his people, nor one promise of his covenant, but may at some time or other, afford an argument in prayer. But the strongest and sweetest argument that a christian knows, is the name and mediation of Jesus Christ his Lord. It is for the sake of Christ, who has purchased all the blessings of the covenant, that a saint hopes to receive them; and for the sake of Christ, he pleads that God would bestow them.

But having treated largely on this subject, in my discourse, intitled, _A Guide to Prayer_, I shall not repeat the same things here, but refer the reader to the first chapter of that book, sect. 5.—It remains that I make a few useful reflections on the whole foregoing discourse.

Reflection I. What a dull and uncomfortable thing is religion, without drawing near to God! for this is the very business for which religion is designed; the end and aim of religion is getting nigh to God; if it attain not this end, it is nothing.

O the madness of hypocrites, who satisfy themselves to toil in long forms of worship, and appear perpetually in the shape of religion, but unconcerned whether they ever get near to God by it or no! They lose the end and design for which religion was made. What if we know all the doctrines of the gospel; what if we can talk rationally about natural religion; what if we can deduce one truth from another, so as to spread a whole scheme of godliness before the eyes or ears of those we converse with; what if we can prove all the points of christianity, and give incontestible arguments for the belief of them; yet we have no religion, if our souls never get near to God by them. A saint thinks it a very melancholy thing when he is at a distance from God, and cannot tell God his wants and sorrows. Though he be never so much studied in divinity, and the deep things of God, yet if God be not with him, if he does not come near to his mercy-seat, so as to converse with him as his friend, the soul is concerned, and grieved, and never rests till this distance be removed. It is to little purpose that we get into churches, join in the fellowship of the gospel, and attend many seasons of prayer: It is to very little purpose to read chapters, and to hear sermons, one day after another: It is to little purpose all these forms are maintained, if we have not the substance and power of godliness? if our God be not _near us_, if we never _get near to God_.

Reflection II. How happy are we under the gospel, above all ages and nations besides us, and before us! For we have advantages of getting near to God, beyond what any other religion has; above what the heathen world ever enjoyed; for their light of nature could never shew them the throne of grace: above what the ancient patriarchs had, though God came down in visible shapes, and revealed and discovered himself to them as a man or an angel: above what the Jews had, though God dwelt among them in visible glory, in the holy of holies. The people were kept at a distance, and the high-priests were to come thither but once a year; and their veil, and smokes, and shadows, did, as it were, conceal God from them, although they were types of a future Messiah; and even their _shekinah_ itself, or cloud of glory, gave them no spiritual idea or notion of godhead, though it was a shining emblem of God dwelling among them.

We have better ordinances, and brighter mediums of converse with God; we have more powerful assistances to raise us heaven-ward; we have the Messiah, the Emmanuel; that is, _God in flesh_, God come near us, that we may get near to him; we have the _promise of the Spirit_, which is one of the glorious privileges of the gospel; Eph. ii. 13, 18. _Ye who sometimes were afar off, are made nigh through the blood of Christ: and through him—have we access by one Spirit to the Father._ Through Christ Jesus, and the purchase of his blood, and the working of his Spirit, we approach to the Father, we are brought near to God.

And this very method, _viz._ the atonement of the blood of Christ, and the working of the Spirit by which we are brought near to God in our first conversion, are the ways by which we must draw near him in duty ever afterward: it is by the same atonement, and by the same Spirit. We are continually contracting fresh guilt, and were it not for the perpetuity of the virtue of that sacrifice, our guilt would be an irremovable bar against our coming near to God daily and hourly; and after every new sin, were it not for that Spirit, we could never get near to God again: but that Spirit is promised _to abide with us_; John xiv. 16. and in Heb. iv. 14, 16. _Christ is passed into the heavens_, is very near to God, and hath shewn us the way thither; Heb. x. 19, 20. _Having therefore boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith._

O how should we value our acquaintance with Christ, and pray earnestly for his Spirit! one makes a way for our coming near to God, and the other actually brings us near. How glorious would churches be, if there were more of this Spirit poured down upon us! When an assembly of saints, all joining together in one act of worship, shall at once rise by the same Spirit, and approach to the mercy-seat, and order their cause before God; what might not such a worshipping assembly obtain at the hands of God? What beauty would appear in the worship of christians then? What glory would be found in a society of saints, if this Spirit were but there? Christianity has had these ornaments, and these honours: let us pray that God would restore them again.

Reflection III. This doctrine will not suffer us to confine ourselves or others, merely to a set prescribed form of words in prayer. For as the cases and concerns of soul or body, which we spread before God, are almost infinitely various, so must we express those cases and concerns before God in proper words, and plead for relief with a variety of arguments, as the Spirit of God shall assist us: _I would order my own cause before him_, says Job, _and my mouth shall be filled with arguments_. It is not possible that a Prayer Book should be drawn up with forms particularly suited to every complaint, and every sorrow, that a holy soul wants to pour out, and spread before the mercy-seat. And the christian, that knows the pleasure of getting near to God in prayer, cannot content himself to wrap up all his special and dearest concernments in a few general sentences.

“What! when I am brought so nigh to my God, my Almighty and compassionate friend; when I am taken, as it were, by the hand, and led into his secret place; when I have the ear of God so near me, shall I not tell him my secret and particular grievances? When I feel such a sweet freedom of soul in his presence, shall I not unbosom my whole self to him? Shall I check the devout appetites and affections of my heart, because I do not find words in my Prayer Book fit to express them? Shall I quench the blessed Spirit thus, and limit my converse with God?”

I allow forms of prayer well composed, to be useful helps for younger or meaner christians; or, indeed, for all persons, when the spirits are low and languishing, and the heart in a heavy or cold temper: But at such a glorious season to confine a holy soul to a few good expressions, written down before, how great an injury would it be to its divine pleasure and profit?

Reflection IV. How comfortable a consideration may be drawn from my discourse, by those that have never a friend upon earth, that there is a friend in heaven, to whom they may tell all their circumstances, and all their sorrows! There are some persons, in this world, so mean and so wretched, that they are ready to think, at least, that they have never a friend, and are apt to complain that they are altogether friendless. But there is a God, one that they may be sure is their everlasting friend, when they are willing to enter into a state of friendship with him: when they have commenced friendship with him by the blood of Jesus the great Reconciler, and by the working of the reconciling Spirit; then let them improve this consideration with sweet joy. They have a friend in heaven, before whom they can spread all their sorrows, though they be friendless on earth; though they are forced to say of their souls, “There is no refuge for them in the world,” yet they can say, _God is their refuge_: They can express to him their various sufferings, and their several difficulties, and they can be sure of a helper in heaven.

Reflection V. _Lastly_, That future state of glory must be blessed indeed, where we shall be ever near to God, even to his seat, and have no sorrows to tell him of. If it be so delightful a thing to come near the seat of God here upon earth, to mourn before him, and to tell him all our circumstances, and all our sorrows; how pleasurable a blessedness must that of heaven be, where we shall be ever rejoicing before him; as Christ Jesus was before the world was made, _rejoicing daily before him_; and our _delight_ shall be with that God who created _the sons of men_: Where we shall be for ever telling him our joys, and our pleasures, with humble adoration of his grace, and everlasting gratitude. It will be a sweet redoubling of all the delights and enjoyments of heaven, to tell him, in the language of that world, what infinite satisfaction we feel in his society; what enjoyments and delights we derive from his immediate influences; how full our hearts are of love to him, and how full they are of the sense of his love: There his love communicated to us, shall be, as it were, reflected back again from our souls to God; and in the perpetual communications and reflections of knowledge, joy, and love shall our heaven consist.