Chapter XXV: A Christian is sober, charitable and just, upon the same (2)

It is no _fixed degree_ of sorrow that is the common repentance of all men. It is no _fixed form_ or _length_ or _hour_ of prayer, that is the common devotion of all men. Yet are these _ constant_ and _universal_ duties.

In like manner, though fasting be subject to all the same variations, yet is it a _constant_ and _universal_ duty.

XVI. *_Justus_ is a grave, sober man. He is very angry at those who neglect fasting. He thinks they know nothing of religion.

But presently after, _Justus_ will tell you, that he never fasts but on _Good Friday_, and the 30th of _January_.

If _Justus_ had lived before the murder of King _Charles_, he had had but one fast in the year. Yet in all likelihood he would then have stood up for the _doctrine_ of fasting.

If a man was to be angry at those who neglect the service of the church, as people that know nothing of religion, and then tell you, that he himself never goes thither but on _Good Friday_, and the 30th of _January_, you would say, that he knew nothing of the nature of church service.

Now _Justus_ shews the same ignorance of the nature of _ fasting_.

If prayer and repentance and the service of the church, were not common acts of devotion, and necessary ways of worshipping God, they would not be necessary on _Good Friday_.

In like manner, unless fasting was a common and necessary part of religion, it would neither be necessary nor acceptable on those particular days.

For it is not the day that makes the duty to be necessary. But the day happens to be a proper occasion of exercising a necessary duty.

XVII. If _Justus_ was to say, that he never _repents_ but on those public days, he might as easily defend himself as when he says, he only fasts but at those times.

For, is there any benefit in fasting at those times? Does it add any thing to your piety and devotion? Does it calm your mind and put you into a better state for prayer, than when you take your usual meals? If it has not something of this effect, where is the use of it at any time? And if it has this effect, how comes it that you will have but one or two such days in the year? Why will you not thus assist your devotions, thus calm your mind, thus raise your heart, ’till the _day_ comes on which King _Charles_ was murdered? Is not this like staying till then before you repent?

XVIII. Farther; when the disciples of our Lord could not cast the evil spirit out of a man that was a _lunatic_, he not only tells them, it was for want of faith, but also gives them a very important instruction in those words, _Howbeit this kind goeth not out, but by prayer and fasting_. Matt. xvii. 21.

Now, does this look as if fasting were designed only for a day or two in the year? Is it ranked with prayer, as being equally prevalent with God? And is not this sufficient to teach us, that we must think of fasting as we think of prayer; that it is a proper way of devotion, a right method of applying to God? And if that prayer is most prevailing which is attended with fasting, it is proof enough surely, that fasting is to be a common part of our devotion.

Is it powerful enough, by the blessing of God, to cast out devils, and cure lunatics? And shall we neglect it, when we pray against the evil tempers which possess our hearts? Shall we not then pray to God in the most powerful prevailing manner that we can?

*If we were to fast without praying, would not this be a way of worship of our own invention? And if we pray and neglect fasting, is it not equally chusing a worship of our own? For he that has taught us the use and advantage of prayer, has also taught us the use and advantage of fasting. And has likewise joined them together, as having the same power with God.

XIX. *We may also observe, that the reason of self-denial and abstinence is perpetual, because we are perpetually united to a body, that is more or less fit to join with the soul in acts of holiness, according to the state it is in.

It is therefore absolutely necessary that we avoid every degree of indulgence, every kind of irregularity, that may make our bodies less _active_ or less fit for the purpose of a holy life.

Christian temperance is no more that which passes for temperance in the sight of men, than Christian charity is that which passes for charity in the world.

A worldly man may think himself temperate, when he only abstains from such excesses as may make him fitter to enjoy a healthful _sensuality_.

But Christian temperance is of quite another kind, and for other ends. It is to keep the body in a state of purity and submission, and to preserve in the soul a divine and heavenly taste.

XX. It is out of all question, that there are some states of body fitter for virtue than others.

This is as certain as that _gluttony_ and _drunkenness_ dispose men to all sorts of sins, and give them a disrelish for all sorts of holiness. For as these vices have the utmost contrariety to religion, so every _approach_ towards them is, in a certain degree, partaking of them.

A man that lives so as not to be called either a _glutton_ or a _drunkard_, may yet be so near them, as to partake of those tempers which are the effects of _gluttony_ and _drunkenness_.

*As a man may be vain and uncharitable, yet not so as to be remarkable for his vanity and uncharitableness, so he may be under the guilt and evil effects of eating and drinking, though not so as to be esteemed either a glutton or intemperate.

*So that a wise Christian will constantly practise such abstinence, as may not only secure him from sensuality in the sight of the world, but as best suits with a body which is the holy habitation of a soul devoted to God.

XXI. St. _Paul_ saith, _I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air. But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway._ 1 Cor. ix.

Let it be observed, that the apostle practised this self-denial, not only as a good and advisable thing, but as of the last necessity. It was not, as he was an _apostle_, and that he might be fitter for the miraculous gifts of the Holy Ghost: but it was, to secure his salvation, and _lest when he had preached to others, he should himself be a castaway_.

*Let it be considered, that this apostle, who lived _in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses_ for Christ’s sake, who was also full of _signs and wonders, and mighty deeds_, and who had been _caught up into the third heavens_; yet reckons all his virtues as insecure, and his salvation in danger, without this constantly continued course of universal self-denial. Nay he thought all his advancements in piety, without this, to be as vain a labour as _beating the air_.

_So run I_, says he, _not as uncertainly_; by which he plainly teacheth us, that he who does not thus run, who does not thus continually _keep the body under, does run uncertainly, and fighteth_ to as little purpose as he _that beateth the air_.

An apostle preaching the gospel with _signs and wonders_, in the midst of distress and persecution, thought his own salvation in danger, without this subjection of his body. And shall we think it safe to feed to the full, and indulge our bodies in ease and plenty?

XXII. *There are no truths more plainly delivered in scripture than these two, _the general corruption_ of human nature, and the _absolute necessity_ of divine grace. Now these make the necessity of a continual self-denial plain and obvious to the meanest capacity; and extend it to all those things and enjoyments which either strengthen the _corruption_ of our nature, or _grieve the Holy Spirit of_ God, and cause him to depart from us.

Whoever reflects on these, will soon be convinced, that all those enjoyments are to be abstained from, which either support our natural corruption, or hinder the inspirations of the Holy Spirit.

He will find also, that this self-denial must extend itself to every day of our lives, unless he can find a day, which offers nothing suitable to the corruption of his nature, or nothing contrary to the good motions of the Holy Ghost.

XXIII. Most people acknowledge this in general: that we ought to avoid what strengthens our corruptions and _grieves_ the Spirit of God: but then they think to abstain from gross sin is sufficient for this.

But let such consider, that a _dropsy_ or a _gangrene_, is not only increased by drunkenness, but by every little indulgence that suits with it.

Now the corruption of our nature is an inbred distemper that possesses us in the manner of a dropsy or gangrene. If we give into notorious sins, it quite overcomes us, and we are straightway dead in sin.

*But tho’ we keep clear of great offences, yet if we indulge ourselves in little things that suit with the corruption of our nature, we certainly nourish a slow death, and destroy ourselves by degrees.

Our self-denial therefore must be as _universal_ as the means of our corruption. It is to last as long as our disorder, and to extend itself to every thing that might increase it. And this for as plain a reason as a man in a dropsy is not only to abstain from drunkenness, but from every indulgence that increases his disorder.

XXIV. *Let it be farther considered, that the corruption of our nature is but faintly represented by comparing it to these distempers. For one in these distempers may have only some part affected; but the corruption of our nature is as extensive as our nature. It is the corruption of every faculty and every power. It is blindness in our understandings; it is self-love and perverseness in our wills, intemperance in our ♦appetites. It is anger, lust, pride and revenge in our passions; it is falseness, hypocrisy, malice and hatred in our hearts. Now all this, and far more than this, makes the miserable corruption of human nature.

♦ ‘appeties’ replaced with ‘appetites’

So that it is as necessary that our lives be a state of _regimen_, contrary to this variety of disorders, as it is necessary for a man under a complication of distempers, to observe a _course_ of regularity.

For seeing all ill tempers are increased by indulgence, and the more we yield to any, the stronger it grows, ’tis plain we must practise as many sorts of self-denial as we have ill tempers to contend with.

XXV. *When we speak of self-denial, we are apt to confine it to eating and drinking: but we ought to consider, that these are the easiest and smallest instances of it. Pride, vanity, self-love, covetousness, envy, and other inclinations of the like nature, call for a more constant and watchful self-denial, than the appetites of hunger and thirst.

*’Till therefore our self-denial is as universal as our corruption; ’till we deny ourselves all degrees of vanity and folly, as earnestly as we deny ourselves all degrees of drunkenness; till we reject all sorts of pride and envy, as we abhor all kinds of gluttony; till we watch and deny all irregular tempers, as we avoid all sorts of sensuality, we can no more be said to practise self-denial, that he can be said to be just, who only denies himself the liberty of stealing.

And till we do thus universally deny ourselves, our lives will be a _ridiculous mixture_ of I know not what; _sober_ and covetous, proud and _devout_, _temperate_ and vain, _regular_ in our forms of prayer, and irregular in our passions, circumspect in _little modes_ of behaviour, and careless of tempers the most essential to piety.

XXVI. A little attention to that great principle of _reason and religion_, that God is our only good, will convince us still farther of the necessity of universal self-denial.

For what can be a greater self-denial, or more contradictory to all our natural sentiments, than to live and govern ourselves by a happiness that is to be had in God alone? A happiness which our senses, our old guides, neither see, nor feel, nor taste, nor perceive: a happiness which gives us neither figure, nor dignity, nor power, nor glory, among one another?

Look at man in his natural state, acting by the judgment of his senses, following the motions of his nature; and you will see him acting as if the world was full of infinite sorts of happiness.

He has not only a thousand imaginary pleasures, but has found out as many vexations; all which shew, that he thinks _happiness_ is every where to be found. For no one is vexed at any thing, unless he thinks he is disappointed of some possible happiness.

A happiness therefore in God alone, is the greatest contradiction to all our natural tempers. Not only as it proposes a good which our senses cannot relish, but as it leads us from all those imaginary enjoyments on which our senses have fixed our hearts.

XXVII. If then we think of religion, without self-denial, we know nothing at all of it. For its whole nature is, to direct us by a light and knowledge and wisdom from God, which is all contrary to the darkness, ignorance and folly of our natures.

It is therefore altogether impossible for any man to enter into the spirit of religion, but by denying himself, by being divested of all his _natural tempers_ and judgments, which have been formed by the blind motions of flesh and blood, and strengthened by the example and authority of the world. He cannot walk in the light of God, unless he reject the _dreams_ of his senses, and the _darkness_ of worldly wisdom.

*We may let our senses tell us, what we are to _eat_ and _drink_, or when we are to sleep. We may let them teach us, how near we may draw to a _fire_, how great a _burden_ we may carry, or into how deep a _water_ we may go. In these things they are our proper guides.

But if we appeal to them to know the _true good_ of man, or the proper happiness of our rational nature; if we ask them what _guilt_ there is in sin, or what _excellence_ there is in piety; if we consult them as guides in these matters, we act full as absurdly as if we were to try to _hear_ with our _eyes_, or to _see_ with our _ears_.

XXVIII. *While we forget this, all our judgments of things are corrupted by the grossness and errors of our senses.

We judge of every thing in the same manner as the child judges of his _play things_. It is by our _senses_ alone we pass the judgment, tho’ we think we act with the _reason of man_.

The world is made up of _fine sights_, sports, shew and pageantry, which please and captivate the minds of men, because men have still the minds of children, and are just the same slaves to their senses that children are.

As children and men see the same _colours_ in things, so children and men feel the same sensible pleasures, and are affected with external objects in the same manner.

But the misfortune is, that we laugh at the _little_ pleasures, _poor_ designs, and _trifling_ satisfactions of children; while at the same time the _wisdom_ and _greatness_ of men, is visibly taken up with the _same trifles_.

A _coach_ and _six_ and an _embroidered suit_, shall make a great _statesman_ as happy, as ever a _go-cart_ and _feather_ made a child.

Ask a child, what he thinks he would do with a great sum of money? Why, he would buy twenty _little horses_, he would have twenty _fine coats_, see all _fine sights_, and the like.

Now promise but a man a great estate, and you will raise all these same thoughts and designs in his mind.

And whence is this, but from hence, that men act with the same _vanity_ of mind, are under the same _poor guidance_ of their senses, are as ignorant of their _true happiness_, as great strangers to their own nature, as when they first set out in life.

And is not this a plain reason for self-denial? For to indulge ourselves in our _natural tempers_, is to grow old in the follies of _childhood_.

XXIX. *Let us take another view of the disorder of our nature, that we may see a still greater necessity of not walking according to it.

When we see people _drunk_, or in a violent passion, we own they are so long in a state of delusion, thinking, saying, and doing irregular things, by the mere force of their blood and spirits. Here we all see the power of our bodies over our reason; and never suppose a man capable of judging or acting wisely, so long as he is under the violence of _passion_, or heated by _drink_.

Now this is more or less the constant, _natural_ state of all mankind; who are by bodily impressions, and the agitations of the blood and spirits, in the same kind of _delusion_, as men that are _drunk_, or in a _passion_, tho’ not always in the same degree.

Sometimes the disorder is more _violent_ than at others. But it never ceases. Men are always in some _passion_ or other; and this, even when it is not to that degree, as to be visible to others, yet occasions the same weakness of mind, the same disordered imagination, and the same wrong apprehension of the nature of things.

A _silent envy_, a _secret vanity_, which no body sees, disorders our judgments in the same manner as more _violent_ passions.

You may increase the _vanity_ or _envy_, till it end in distraction, as it sometimes happens. But then you may be sure, it disordered our understanding in some degree, long before it came to madness. All men therefore while, in a natural state, resemble those who are drunk, or in a violent passion; having some passion or other that affects their spirits and disorders their judgment, in the same manner tho’ not in the same degree.

XXX. *Another circumstance of drunkenness is this, that it gives us a taste peculiar to it, so as to leave a dulness and indisposition towards any thing else. An habitual drunkard has no pleasure like that confused heat of thoughts that arises from inflamed blood. The repeating this so often has given him a turn of mind that relishes nothing but what relates to intemperance.

Now this is naturally the state of all people, in some respect or other. There is something has got hold of them, and given them a taste for it, in the same manner that drinking has formed the taste of a drunkard. All people are not intemperate; but all are under some habit that affects the mind in the same manner as intemperance.

Some people have indulged themselves so long in _dressing_, others in _play_, others in _sports_ of the field, others only in little _gossiping stories_, that they are as much slaves to these, as the intemperate man to liquor.

Now we readily own, that a man who has enslaved himself to drinking, has thereby rendered himself incapable of being a _reasonable judge_ of other happiness; but then we do not enough consider, that we are hurt in the same manner by any thing else that has taken hold of us, and given us a temper and turn of mind peculiar to it.

It is to as little purpose to talk of the happiness of religion, to one that is fond of _dress_, or _play_ or _sports_, as to a drunkard; for the pleasures of these particular kinds, make him as deaf to all either proposals of happiness, and as incapable of judging of them.

*A lady abominates a _sot_, as a creature that has only the shape of a man: but then she does not consider, that perhaps, drunken as he is, he can be more content with the want of _liquor_, than she can with the want of _fine cloaths_. And if this be her case, she only differs from him, as one intemperate man differs from another.

Thus it appears, whether we consider the nature, circumstances or effects of drunkenness, that all mankind are more or less in the same state of weakness and disorder.

Hence also appears the absolute necessity of denying our natural tempers and inclinations, and giving ourselves up without reserve to the light and wisdom of God; since by our natural corruption and slavery to the body, we are always under the power of its blind motions, and since all our inclinations and judgments, are only the judgments of heated blood, drunken spirits and disordered passions.

XXXI. Every one sees people in the world, whom he takes to be incapable of _sober_ judgments and _wise_ reflections, because he sees they are full of themselves, blinded with prejudices, violent in their passions, wild and extravagant in their imaginations.

Now when we see these, we should reflect that we see ourselves; for we as certainly see a _true representation_ of ourselves, when we look at such people, as we see a true picture of our state when we see a man in the agonies of death.

You are not _dying_ as this man is; but still he shews you your own _true picture_. He shews you that your life is in the midst of death, that you have in you the seeds of sickness and mortality, and that you are only at a _little uncertain distance_ from those who are lying upon their last beds.

In like manner, you are not, it may be, in the same height of passion that another man is. You are at _some uncertain distance_ from his state. But if you fancy you are not corrupted with self-love, not weakened by prejudices, not vain in your imaginations, not disordered in your tempers, because you are not in that _extremity_ of disorder wherein some other people are; you think as absurdly, as if you imagined yourself to be immortal, because you are not in the _agonies_ of death.

When therefore you see the violence of other mens passions, the folly of their tempers, and vanity of their minds, remember that you see so many plain reasons for denying yourself, and resisting your own nature, which has in it the seeds of all the same evil tempers.

XXXII. From all this we may learn, (as was observed above) that abstinence as to eating and drinking, is but a small part of Christian self-denial: it being full as dangerous to indulge any evil temper, as to live in gluttony and intemperance.

*You think it shameful to be an _epicure_, or to be fond of _liquor_. You are very right: but then proceed a step further, and think it as shameful to be fond of _dress_, or delighted with _yourself_, or to be fond of _dainties_: and that it is as great a sin, to please any corrupt _temper_, as to please your _palate_. Remember, that blood heated with any _passion_, is like blood heated with _liquor_, and that the grossness of gluttony is no greater a contrariety to religion, than the politeness of pride or vanity.

I have been the longer on this subject, trying to represent the weakness and corruption of our nature, because so far only as we see this, can we see the necessity of denying ourselves. This would be needless, if we were wise and good; but if we see that our whole nature is in a disorder, that our light is darkness, our wisdom foolishness, our judgments as gross and blind as our appetites; that our senses govern us as they govern children; that our hearts are taken up with _gewgaws_ and trifles; that the state of our souls is a state of error and delusion, like that of drunkenness and passion.

If we see ourselves in this true light, we shall see the great reason of Christian self-denial, of renouncing our whole selves, that we may see all things in God; that our hearts may be moved by a motion from him, and our wills and inclinations wholly directed by the light and wisdom of his Spirit.

CHAP. IV.

_THE necessity of divine grace, another general ground of self-denial._

I. I come now to another great doctrine of our religion, namely, the _absolute necessity of divine grace_: which is another constant reason for universal _self-denial_.

The invisible assistance of God’s Spirit, by which we are disposed to that which is good, and made able to perform it, is a confessed doctrine of Christianity.

Our natural life is preserved by some union with God, who is the fountain of life to all the creation; to which union we are altogether strangers. We find that we are alive; but how or by what influence from God our life is supported, is a secret into which we cannot enter. It is the same thing with relation to our spiritual life; it arises from some _invisible union_ with God, or divine influence, which in this state we cannot comprehend. Our blessed Saviour saith: _The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.¹_ This shews us how ignorant we are of the _manner_ of the operations of the Holy Spirit. We may feel its effects, as we may perceive the effects of the wind, but are as much strangers to the _manner_ of its coming upon us, as we are to that _exact point_, from whence the wind begins to blow, or where it will cease.

¹ John iii. 8.

II. The Spirit of God is like the nature of God, too high for our conceptions, whilst we are in these dark houses of clay. But our blessed Saviour has in some degree helped our conceptions by the manner of his giving the Holy Spirit to the disciples; _and he breathed on them, and said unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost_. By this we are taught to conceive of the communications of the Holy Spirit, with some likeness to breath, or wind; that its influences come upon us in some _manner_, like to a gentle breathing of the air. Representations of this kind are only made in compliance with the weakness of our apprehensions; which, not being able to conceive things as they are in their own nature, must be instructed, by comparing them to such things as our senses are acquainted with. Thus the _wisdom_ and _knowledge_, that is revealed from God, is compared to _light_; not because light is a true representation of the wisdom of God; but because it serves best to represent it to our low capacities. In like manner, the _influences_ of the Holy Spirit, are set forth by _breathing_ upon us; not because _breath_, or _air_, or _wind_, are true representations of the gifts of the Spirit, but because they are the properest representations that as yet fall within our knowledge.

III. But that which is most necessary for us to know, and of which we are sufficiently informed in scripture, is the _absolute necessity_ of this divine assistance.

We are used to consider those only as _inspired_ persons, who are called by God to some _extraordinary_ designs. In this sense there have been but few inspired persons; but inspiration, as it signifies an _invisible operation_, or _assistance_ of God’s Holy Spirit, is the privilege of all Christians: in this sense they are all _inspired persons. Know ye not_, saith St. _Paul_, _that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you?_ St. _John_ likewise, _Hereby know we that he dwelleth in us, by the Spirit, which he hath given us. For as many as are led by the Spirit of_ God, _are the Sons of_ God, _and if any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.¹_ From these, and many other passages it is plain, that the life which we now live, is a life in and by the Spirit of God; and that they are only Sons of God, who are led by this Spirit. Now this doctrine plainly proves the necessity of a constant self-denial; for it must be necessary that we deny ourselves all those tempers, and ways of life, which may make God _withhold_ his grace from us; and likewise all those enjoyments and indulgences, which may make us _less able_ and _less disposed_ to improve and co-operate with those degrees of divine grace that are communicated to us.

¹ Rom. viii. 11.

IV. And seeing we are none of Christ’s, if the Spirit of Christ be not in us; seeing we are only so far Christians, as we are renewed by the Holy Ghost; nothing can be more necessary than that we consider all our _tempers_, pleasures, cares, designs and ways of life, whether they be such as _suit_ with the wisdom and heavenly guidance of the Holy Spirit. This doctrine shews us to ourselves in a _new point_ of view, and may serve to teach us several truths, which we should otherwise not so readily apprehend.

When we are left to consider our duty with relation to the express commandments of God, there are many ways of life, which we think ourselves at liberty to follow, because they seem to be no plain breach of any express commandment. But we are to look to a farther rule, and to consider our pleasures and cares, our designs and endeavours, not only whether they are contrary to the letter of the law, but whether they are according to the Spirit of God; for if they are contrary to the Spirit of God, they are as truly to be avoided, as if they were contrary to some express commandment. For we are assured by scripture, that they only are the Sons of God, _who are led by the Spirit of_ God; and none can be said to be led by the Spirit of God, but they whose lives are according to it, whose actions, cares, and pleasures, hopes and fears, are such as may be said to be guided by the Holy Ghost.

V. We are therefore to consider ourselves as _inspired persons_, that have no knowledge or wisdom, but what comes from God; and this wisdom will no longer dwell with us, than we act conformably thereto. So that we must not deceive ourselves in saying, where is the harm of such _indulgences_, or such _vanities_ and idle _amusements_? But must consider, whether they are such as are conformable to a life that is to be directed by the Holy Ghost. In this manner must we examine all our ways of life, as well our cares as our pleasures. For unreasonable cares, and unreasonable pleasures, are equally contrary to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, and equally separate us from him. People often think their designs and diversions innocent, because they are not _sinful_ in their nature. But they should also consider, whether they are not _vain_ and _foolish_, and _unsuitable_ to the condition of a Christian. For a life of _folly_ and _vanity_, and _trifling designs_, is no more living by the _Spirit of_ God, than a life of _gross sins_ is keeping the _commandments_. So that the safest rule to judge of our actions by, is to consider them with relation to that Spirit, by which we are to be guided. Is this design or this diversion according to the wisdom of the Spirit of God? Am I in these things improving the secret inspiration of the Holy Ghost? Am I here governed by a wisdom from above? Are these ways such as I can truly say, that I am led into them by the Spirit of God? Do I allow myself in them, because they serve to set forth the glory of God? Are they good proofs that the Spirit of God dwelleth in me; and that by thus sowing to the Spirit, I shall of the Spirit reap everlasting life? This is the rule by which Christians are to regulate their thoughts, words, and actions; for we are called by God to act by the motions of his Holy Spirit, and to make no other use of ourselves, or the world we are in, than such as is conformable to that dignity of life and state of glory to which we are called. The Spirit of our religion is to be the spirit of our lives, the constant principle of all our tempers and inclinations, which is to render us reasonable, and wise and holy in all our progress through the world.

VI. *’Tis acknowledged by all, that a life of _intemperance_ and _debauchery_, makes us dead and senseless of religion: but then it is not enough considered that the _vanity_ of the mind, an understanding busied in _trifles_, an _impertinent course of life_, will as certainly produce the _same effect_. If our understanding is full of foolish imaginations, if we are devoted to trifles, religion can gain no entrance. A man may be so earnest in _picking straws_, as to have no leisure to think of his salvation; nor any more inclination to it, than one that is constantly in _drink_.

Thus poor _amusements_, vain _arts_, useless _sciences_, impertinent _learning_, false _satisfaction_, a wrong turn _of mind_, a state of _idleness_, or any the vainest _trifles_ of life, may keep men at as great a distance from true religion, as the debaucheries of intemperance.

VII. *_Titius_ is temperate and regular: but then he is so great a _mathematician_, that he does not know when Sunday comes: he sees people going to _church_ as he sees others going to _market_; he goes on studying, measuring, and calculating, and may as well be called a _merchant_ as a _Christian_.

All doctrines of religion are disagreeable to _Philo_; he avoids them as he avoids _party_: now what is the reason of it? It is not because he is _debauched_ and _intemperate_. But he is a _virtuoso_, devoted to polite _literature_. His soul is extended to all the _curiosities_ in the world, and thinks all time to be lost that is not spent in the search of _shells, urns, inscriptions_, and _broken pieces of pavements_. This makes the concerns of _eternity_ seem small things in his eyes, fit only for the enquiry of _narrow, little_, and _unpolite_ souls.

_Eusebius_ would read prayers _twice_ a day in his _parish_; he would be often with the poor and sick, and spend much time in charitable visits; he would be wholly taken up with the _care_ of souls, but that he is busy in studying the _old grammarians_, and would fain _reconcile_ some differences amongst them before he dies.

VIII. _Lycia_ might be pious; but that she is too _easy, gay_, and _chearful_, to admit of care of any kind. She can no more _repent_, than she can be _out of temper_, and must be the same _sparkling, chearful_ creature in the _church_, as in the _play-house_. She might be capable of understanding the misery of human nature, and the necessity of the comforts of religion; but that she is so happy every time she is _dressed_.

_Matrona_ is old, and has been these _fifty years_ eating and drinking, sleeping and waking, dressing and undressing, _paying_ and _receiving visits_. She has no prophaneness; and, if she has no piety, it is owing to this, that she never had a _spare half-hour_ to think about it. She envies her daughters, because they will _dress_ and _visit_ when she is dead.

*_Publius_ goes to _church_ sometimes, and reads the scripture; but he knows not what he reads or prays, his head is so full of politics. He is so angry at _Kings_ and Ministers of State, that he has no time or disposition to call himself to account. He has the history of all _parliaments, elections, prosecutions_, and _impeachments_, and dies with little or no religion, through a constant fear of popery.

_Siccus_ has been all his life long _building_ and _ pulling down_, making _canals_ and _ditches_, raising _walls_ and _fences_. People call him a good man, because he employs the poor: _Siccus_ might have been a _religious_ man, but that he thought _building_ was the chief happiness of a rational creature. He is all the week amongst _dirt_ and _mortar_, and stays at home on _Sundays_ to view his contrivances. He will die more contentedly, if his death does not happen whilst some _wall_ is in building.

IX. I have mentioned these several _characters_ to shew, that it is not only _prophaneness, debauchery_, and _open vices_, that keep men from the impressions of true religion; but that the mere _play-things_ of life, impertinent _studies_, vain _amusements_, false _satisfactions_, idle _dispositions_, will produce the same effect. A _wrong_ turn of mind, _impertinent cares_, a succession of the _poorest trifles_, if they take up our thoughts, leave no more room for true piety than gross sensuality.

X. We see even in worldly matters, that if we propose any thing to a man, when he is in the pursuit of something else, he hardly hears or understands us; we must stay for a season of more leisure and indifference, till his thoughts and passions are at rest.

Now this holds much stronger in matters of religion. Its doctrines are neither heard nor understood, because it always finds us in the pursuit of _something else_. It matters not what this _something else_ is; the mind is equally employed wrong, and so not in a condition to like, or at leisure to listen to any other happiness. If you were to propose the same truths to a man in another state, when weariness or disappointment has made him give up all designs, or when sickness or the approach of death shews him that he must act no longer in them, they would have quite another effect upon him; then the great things of religion appear great indeed. He _feels_ their whole weight, and is amazed he did not see them always in the same manner. Now it is the great end and design of _self-denial_ to put a stop to the follies of life, that our souls may quietly consider, and fully comprehend the truths which come from God; that our hearts being at liberty from a croud of foolish thoughts, may be ready to obey and co-operate with the _inspirations_ of that Spirit, which is to lead and quicken us in all holiness; that _death_ and _judgment_, _heaven_ and _hell_, may make as deep impressions upon our minds in the middle of our lives, as at our last hour; that we may be as wise and prudent as _sick_ and _dying_ men, and live with such apprehensions as most people die with; that we may see the vanity of the world, the misery of sin, the greatness of eternity, and the want of God, as they see it who stand upon the brink of another world.

XI. This is the great and happy work of self-denial, to awaken us into a true knowledge of ourselves, and shew us who, and where, and what we are. Till then our life is but a _sleep_, a _dream_, a mere succession of shadows; and we act with as little reason as a child that is pleased with blowing about a _feather_. We must therefore not only deny our wicked inclinations, but also all our follies, impertinences, and vain satisfactions: for, as plain and known sins harden and corrupt, so impertinences and vain satisfactions delude and blind our hearts, and render them insensible of our real misery, or true happiness.

XII. We are true members of the kingdom of God; when the kingdom of God is within us; when the spirit of religion is the spirit of our lives; when seated in our hearts, it diffuses itself into all our motions; when it is the principle of all our thoughts and desires, the spring of all our hopes and fears; when we like and dislike, seek and avoid, mourn and rejoice, as becomes those who are born again of God. And this is the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, to give us a _new understanding_, a _new judgment_, temper, taste, and relish, new desires, and new hopes and fears. But so far as we nourish any foolish passion, indulge any vanity of mind or corruption of heart; so far we _resist the graces_ of God’s Holy Spirit, and render ourselves _indisposed_ to relish and improve his secret _inspiration_.

XIII. Christians are therefore not only to consider themselves, as men that are to act by a principle of _reason_, but as spiritual beings who have a higher principle of life within them, and are to live by the _wisdom_ and _instructions_ of the Spirit of God.

As reasonable men would do every thing that tended to strengthen or improve their reason, so Christians ought to practise every thing that can strengthen or preserve their union with the Spirit of God. For as a man without reason has but the _figure_ of a man; so a Christian without the Spirit of God, has but the _form_ of a Christian. Here therefore we must fix all our care, and concern, that we may remove all hindrances of divine grace; that we may be truly spiritual in all our ways and designs, and indulge no tempers that may lessen our union with the Spirit of God.

XIV. Some persons will perhaps refrain from _grief_, when they find that it hurts their _eyes_; they will avoid _passion_ and _anger_ if it ends in pains of the head; but they would do well to consider that these tempers are to be abstained from, upon much greater accounts. Passion may disorder our bodies, waste our spirits, and leave pains in our _heads_; but it leaves greater marks of injury in our better parts, as it throws us into a state of madness, and _banishes_ the Holy Spirit of peace, and gentleness, and _prepares_ us for the suggestions of the spirit of darkness. _Grief_ may hurt our _eyes_, but it much more hurts our _souls_, as it sinks them into a state of gloom and darkness, which _expels_ and _quenches_ the Spirit of God; for light may as well unite with darkness, as the Spirit of God dwell with the gloomy dulness and horror of stupid grief. What I have observed of these two passions, ought to be concluded of every other _passion_ and _temper_; we are to consider it as it _suits_ with, or _resists_ that new Spirit, by whose motions we are to be preserved in a state of holiness.

XV. Now seeing this _newness_ of spirit is the whole of religion; we must fear and avoid all _irregularity_ of spirit, every _unreasonable temper_, because it hurts us in our principal part, and makes us _less capable_ of the graces, and _less obedient_ to the motions of God’s Holy Spirit. We must labour after a state of peace, and thankfulness, free from the folly of vain hopes, idle fears, and false anxieties, that our souls may be disposed to rejoice in the comforts, and advance in the graces of the Holy Ghost.

XVI. And with what _care_ and _exactness_ we are at all times to conduct ourselves, is fully set forth in the following words: _Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers; and grieve not the Holy Spirit of_ God, _whereby you are sealed unto the day of redemption.¹_ That we may not here mistake what is meant by _corrupt communication_, the apostle adds; _but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers_. So that it is _a conversation that does not edify_, and profit the hearers, that the apostle condemns as _corrupt_. And let it be observed that the apostle does not prohibit this kind of conversation because it is _useless_, and impertinent; but for a reason of the utmost consequence, that we may not _grieve the Holy Spirit of_ God. This shews us that we Christians are to govern ourselves by no less a rule, than a _conformity_ to the Spirit of God; that we are not only to deny ourselves vain and foolish actions, but also idle and unedifying discourse, and conduct ourselves in all our behaviour, with such a spirit of wisdom and purity as may make the Holy Ghost _delight_ to dwell in us. Such a wisdom as is not occasionally exercised in this or that place, or at set times; but is always in being, and constantly disposing us to thoughts, words and actions suitable to it.

¹ Ephes. iv. 29.

XVII. A man may be said to have some regard for religion, who is _regular_ at places of divine worship; but he cannot be reckoned of a _religious spirit_, till it is his Spirit in every place and on every occasion, till he lives and breathes by it, and thinks, and speaks, and acts according to its motions.

A man may frequent _meetings for mirth_; but yet, if when he is out of them, he gives himself to peevishness, chagrin and dulness, no one will say such a man is of a _chearful spirit_. It is easy to make the application: if we are only attendants at _places_ of religion; if when we are out of those places, we are of another spirit, I don’t say proud or covetous, but vain and foolish: if our actions are silly, and our conversation trifling and impertinent, our tempers vain and worldly, we are no more of a _religious spirit_, than a dull peevish man is of a _chearful spirit_, because he is regular at some set meetings for _mirth_.

XVIII. *Religion is not ours till we live by it; till it is the religion of our thoughts, words and actions; till it goes with us into every place; sits uppermost on every occasion; and forms and governs our hopes and fears, our cares and pleasures. He is the religious man who watches and guards his Spirit, and endeavours to be always in the temper of religion; who worships God in every place: who is as fearful of foolish thoughts, irregular tempers, and vain imaginations at one time as at another; who is as wise and heavenly at _home_, or in the field, as in the _house of_ God. For when once religion has got possession of a man’s heart, and is become as it ought to be, his ruling temper; it is as agreeable to such a one in all places, and at all times, to speak and act according to its directions, as ’tis agreeable to the _ambitious_ man, to act according to the motions of ambition. We must therefore take it for granted, that if we are not religious in our conversation, or common temper, we are not religious in our hearts; we may have a _formality_ of religion at certain _times_ and _places_, but we are not of a _religious spirit_.

XIX. We see every body speaking and conversing according to their _spirit_ and temper: the covetous, the ambitious, the vain and self-conceited, have each of them their proper language suitable to their spirit and temper; they are the _same_ persons in all places, and always talk like themselves. If therefore we could meet with persons of a truly religious spirit, we should find them like men of other tempers, the same persons _in all places_, and always talking and acting like themselves. We should find them living by one temper, and conversing with men with the same spirit that they converse with God; not one thing in one place, and another in another; not formal and grave at a _funeral_, and mad and frantic at a _feast_; not listening to wisdom at _church_, and delighting in folly at _home_; not angry with one foolish thing, and as much pleased at another; but steady and uniform in the same wise and religious temper.

XX. Farther, as we are not of a _religious spirit_, till it orders all our conversation; so it is to be observed, that if our conversation is vain and foolish, it keeps us in a state incapable of religion, by _grieving_ the _Holy Spirit_. And as we can do nothing without the Spirit of God, as he is our _breath_, our _life_, our _light_, and our _strength_; so, if we live in such a way as _grieves_ and _removes_ this Holy Spirit from us, we are as branches that are broke off from the tree, and must perish in the deadness and corruption of our nature. Let this therefore teach us to judge rightly of the sin and danger of _vain, unedifying_ and _corrupt_ communication; it is not the sin of _idleness_ or _negligence_ only; it is not a _pardonable infirmity_; it is not a _little mistake_ in spiritual wisdom; but it is a sin that stands between us and the _tree_ of life; that opposes our whole happiness, as it _grieves_ and _separates_ the Holy Spirit from us. Let this also teach some people the reason why they are so _dead_ and _senseless_ of religion: they are not guilty of gross sins; they have an aversion to _cheating_ and _falseness_; but at the same time have no more feeling or sense of religion than mere _reprobates_. Now the reason of it is this; they live in such an _impertinence_ of conversation; their communication is so constantly upon _silly_ and _vain_ subjects; and they are so fond of those who have the talent of conversing in the same manner, that they render themselves _unfit_ for the residence of the Holy Spirit. We don’t seem to apprehend, either how much _good_ or how much _evil_ there is in conversation; I believe it may be affirmed that the greatest instructions, and the greatest corruptions proceed from it. For mens common conversation and ordinary life teach much more effectually than any thing they say or do at set times or occasions.

When a clergyman preaches, he is for the most part considered as doing that which all clergymen do, whether _good_ or _bad_. But if he is the same wise and virtuous man in his communication, that he is in the _pulpit_; if his speech be always _seasoned with salt_, that it may _minister grace unto the hearers_; if the _common_ actions of his life be visibly governed by a spirit of piety: such a one will be heard with reverence on the _Sunday_ for what he says and does all the week. And on the contrary, if a _clergyman_, when he comes out of the _pulpit_, is but like other men; as _irregular_ in his tempers; as _trifling_ in his conversation; as _eager_ in his diversions; and as _vain_ in his designs; he will mightily lessen his power over the hearts of his hearers.

A father now and then gives his son virtuous advice, and the son perhaps would be much the better for it; but that he never hears him talk virtuously, but when he is giving him advice; this makes him think, that he is then only acting the part of a _father_; as when he is buying him _cloaths_, or putting him out to an _employment_. Whereas if he saw his father’s _ordinary life_ and conversation to be under the rules of religion; and his every day temper, a temper of piety; ’tis very likely that he would be won into an imitation of it.