CHAPTERVII.Shewing, how true devotion fills our lives the greatest peace and happiness that can be enjoyed in this world.SOME people perhaps may object, that by thus living wholly untoGod, and introducing a regard to his glory in all that we do, too great a restraint will be put upon human nature; and that by thus depriving ourselves of so many seemingly innocent pleasures, as such a way of life would hinder us from pursuing, we shall render our lives dull, uneasy, and melancholy.But this objection is entirely groundless. For christian devotion requires us to renounce no ways of life, wherein we can act reasonably, and offer what we do to the glory ofGod. All ways of life, all satisfactions and enjoyments that are within these bounds, are no ways denied by the strictest rules of real devotion. And will you think that your life must beuncomfortable, unless you may displeaseGod, be fools and mad, and act contrary to that reason and wisdom which He has implanted in you?As for those satisfactions which we dare not offer to a holyGod, which are only invented by the folly and corruption of the world, which inflame our passions, and sink our soulsinto grossness and sensuality, and thereby render us unmeet for communion withGodhere, and the eternal enjoyment of Him hereafter, surely it can be no uncomfortable state of life, to be rescued by religion from such murderers both of our souls and bodies.Let us suppose a person destitute of that knowledge which we have from our senses, placed somewhere alone by himself, in the midst of a variety of things which he did not know how to use; that he has by him bread, wine, gold-dust, iron chains, gravel, garments, and fire. Let it be supposed, that he had no knowledge of the right use of these things, nor any direction from his senses how to quench his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or make any use of the things about him. Let it be supposed, that in his drought he puts gold dust into his eyes; when his eyes smart, he puts wine into his ears; that in his hunger, he puts gravel in his mouth: that in pain, he loads himself with the iron chains; that feeling cold, he puts his feet in the water; that being frighted at the fire, he runs away from it; and that being weary, he makes a seat of his bread. Let it be supposed, that through his ignorance of the right use of the things that are about him, he will vainly torment himself whilst he lives; and at last die, blinded with dust, choaked with gravel, and loaded with irons. Let it be supposed, that some good being came to him, and shewed him the nature and use of all the things that were about him, and gave him such strict rules of using them, as would certainly, if observed, make him the happier for all that he had, and deliver him from the pains of hunger, and thirst, and cold; could you with any reason affirm, that those strict rules of using the things that were about him, had rendered that poor man’s life dull and uncomfortable?Now this is, in some measure, a representation of thestrict rulesof religion; they relieve our ignorance, save us from tormenting ourselves, and teach us to use every thing about us, not only to the glory ofGod, but to our own proper advantage.If religion commands us to live wholly untoGod, and to do all to his glory, it is because every other way of life isliving wholly against ourselves, and will end in our own shame and confusion.Would you see how happy they are, who live according to their own wills, and who cannot submit to the dull and melancholy business of a life devoted untoGod, look atFlatus;Flatusis rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness.At his first setting out in life,fine cloathswas his delight; his enquiry was only after the best taylors and peruke-makers, and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectation, he left off hisbrocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and♦beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness.♦“beaus” replaced with “beaux”This new pleasure satisfied him for some time: he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate ofplaydrawn into aduel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off thedice, and sought for happiness no longer amongst the gamesters.The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was thediversionsof the town; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and assemblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking. Here he had many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. Here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into afever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.The next attempt after happiness, carried him into the field. For two or three years nothing made him so happy ashunting; he entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped more hedges and ditches than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in agreen coat; he was the envy of all that blew thehorn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the lastnoble chace. No sooner hadFlatusoutdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, new stables, andbought a newhunting-seat, but he immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in thepleasures of building.Now he invents new kinds ofdove-cotes, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before: he wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement ofarchitecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst hisbrickandmortar, than ever he had atcourt; and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to every body ofmasonsandcarpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the happiness ofriding about. After this, you can never see him but on horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life, that he would tell you, give him but hishorseand aclean countryto ride in, and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure of this new way of life. But however, after some time having tired both himself and his horses, the happiest thing he could think of next, was to go abroad andvisit foreign countries; and there, indeed, the happiness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had begun so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, unable to bear any longer the impertinence offoreigners.Alter this, he was a greatstudentfor one whole year; he was up early and late at hisItalian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding theopera, whenever he should hear one, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they don’t know what.Flatusis now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before, he isreasoningand reflecting with himself. He loses several days, in considering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try again.But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country, to gethimself into asgood windas anyrunning footmanin the kingdom.I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars of this kind of life, because I hope, that every particular folly that you here see and read of, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life ofFlatus, is not the common state of those, who resign themselves up to live by their own humour, and neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life, as I would make it.I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the mostgeneral charactersin life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it which belongs to them. But let it be granted, that thegeneralityof people are not of such restless, fickle tempers asFlatus; the difference is only this,Flatusis continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they do not leavegaming, and then fall tohunting; but they have so much steadiness in their tempers, that some seek after no other happiness, but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field; and others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.Now is there any thing more happy or reasonable in such a life as this, than in the life ofFlatus? Is it not as great and desirable, as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard all your life? Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, or as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such a happiness as this?But turn your eyes now another way, and let the glorious joys, the exquisite happiness ofFeliciana, teach you how miserable, and how dull they must needs be, and what a delusion they are in, whole hearts are not wholly devoted untoGod.If you was to live withFelicianabut one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition ofthat which could never have pleased once, but through a wrong turn of mind, and want of thought.She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting days. She is again to change the colours of her cloaths, again to have a new head, and again put patches on her face. She is again to see who acts best at the play-house, and who sings finest at the opera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely about nothing.She is to be again delighted with some new fashion; and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again pleased with her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money.She is again to prepare herself for a birth night, and again see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels, and partings.If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprizing new dress, or new diversion just come to town.These are all the substantial and regular parts ofFeliciana’s happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one or more of these things.It is for this happiness, that she has been always deaf to the reasonings of religion; and if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can prevail on to live wholly untoGod; you will find most of them to be such, as lose all the comforts of religion, without gaining the tenth part ofFeliciana’s happiness. They are such as spend their time and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are only to be purchased by considerable fortunes.Nor does a life only of such vanity and sensuality as that ofFlatusorFeliciana’s, but even the most regular kind of life, that is not governed bygreatdevotion, sufficiently shewshow dull and uncomfortable their lives must needs be, who are not wholly devoted untoGod.Octaviusis a learned, ingenious man, well versed in most parts of literature, and no stranger to any kingdom inEurope. The other day, being just recovered from a lingering fever, he thus addressed his friends.“My glass, says he, is almost run out; and your eyes see how many marks of age and death I bear about me: But I plainly feel myself sinking away faster than any standers by do imagine. I fully believe, that one year more will conclude my reckoning.”The attention of his friends was much raised by such a declaration, expecting to hear something truly excellent from so learned a man, who had but a year longer to live; whenOctaviusproceeded in this manner: “For these reasons, my friends, I have left off all taverns, the wine of those places is not good enough for me in this decay of nature. I must now be nice in what I drink; I cannot pretend to do as I have done; and therefore am resolved to furnish my own cellar with a little of the very best, though it cost me ever so much.I must also tell you, my friends, that age forces a man to be wise in many other respects, and makes us change many of our opinions and practices.You know how much I have liked a large acquaintance; I now condemn it as an error. Three or four chearful, diverting companions, is all that I now desire; because I find, that in my present infirmities, if I am left alone, or to grave company, I am not so easy to myself.”A few days afterOctaviushad made this declaration to his friends, he relapsed into his former illness, and was committed to a nurse, who closed his eyes before his fresh parcel of wine came in.YoungEugenius, who was present at this discourse, went home a new man, with full resolutions of devoting himself toGod.“I never, saysEugenius, was so deeply affected with the wisdom and importance of religion, as when I saw how poorly and meanly the learnedOctaviuswas to leave the world, through the want of it.How often had I envied his great learning, his skill in languages, his knowledge of antiquity, his address, and finemanner of expressing himself upon all subjects! But when I saw how poorly it all ended, what was to be the last year of such a life, and how foolishly the master of all these accomplishments was then forced to talk, I was then convinced that there must be nothing so happy and comfortable as a life of true devotion; nor any thing so poor and comfortless, as death without it.”Look now at that condition of life, which draws the envy of all eyes.Negotiusis a temperate honest man: he served his time under a master of great trade, but has by his own management made it a more considerable business than ever it was before. For thirty years past, he has written fifty or sixty letters in a week, and is busy in corresponding with all parts ofEurope. The general good of trade seems toNegotiusto be the general good of life; whomsoever he admires, whatever he commends, or condemns, either in church or state, is admired, commended, or condemned, with some regard to trade.As money is continually pouring in upon him, so he often lets it go in various kinds of expence and generosity, and sometimes in ways of charity.Negotiusis always ready to join in any public contribution: If a purse is making at any place where he happens to be, whether it be to buy a plate for a horse-race, or to redeem a prisoner out of jail, you are always sure of having something from him.He has given a fine ring of bells to a church in the country; and there is much expectation, that he will some time or other make a more beautiful front to the market-house, than has yet been seen in any place. For it is the generous spirit ofNegotiusto do nothing in a mean way.The generality of people, when they think of happiness, think uponNegotius, in whose life every instance of happiness is supposed to meet; sober, prudent, rich, prosperous, generous, and as the world thinks, charitable.Let us now then look at this condition in another, but truer light.Let it be supposed, that this sameNegotiuswas a painful, laborious man, every day deep in a variety of affairs; that he neither drank, nor was debauched; but was sober and regularin his business. Let it be supposed that he grew old in this course of trading; and that the end and design of all this labour, care, and application to business, was only that he might die possessed of more than a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats. Now if this was really the case, I believe it would be readily granted, that a life of such business was as poor and ridiculous, as any that can be invented. But it would puzzle any one to shew, that a man that has spent all his time and thoughts in business and hurry, that he might die, as it is said, worth a hundred thousand pounds, is any whit wiser than he, who has taken the same pains to have as many pair of boots and spurs when he leaves the world.For if when he has gotten his hundred thousand pounds, or all his boots, his soul is to go to his own place, as every soul needs must that has not closed withJesus Christ, and is not born again ofGod; how can we say, that he who has worn out his life in raising an hundred thousand pounds, has acted a wiser part for himself, however his money may profit others, than he who has had the same care to provide a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats?It would be endless to multiply examples of this kind, to shew how little is lost, and how greatly they are mistaken, who imagine they should render themselves dull and comfortless by introducing a strict piety into every condition of human life.Examples of great piety are not now common in the world; but the misery and folly of worldly men, and vain and trifling women, is what meets your eyes in every place; and you need not look far to see, how poorly, how vainly men dream away their lives for want of real devotion.This is the reason that I have laid before you so many characters of the vanity of a worldly life, to teach you to make some benefit of the corruption of the age, and that you may be made wise, though not by the sight of what piety is, yet by seeing what misery and folly reign where piety is not.To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the love ofGodinChrist, the glories ofheaven, the joys of saints and angels, living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not so suited to every capacity.But to see and consider the emptiness and error of all worldly happiness; to see the grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of dress, the delusion of honour, the blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and the shortness of all worldly projects; these are meditations which are suited to all capacities, and fitted to strike all minds: This is that “wisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets,” that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing, and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes and chances of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness, which is only to be found in alife devoted toGod.
Shewing, how true devotion fills our lives the greatest peace and happiness that can be enjoyed in this world.
SOME people perhaps may object, that by thus living wholly untoGod, and introducing a regard to his glory in all that we do, too great a restraint will be put upon human nature; and that by thus depriving ourselves of so many seemingly innocent pleasures, as such a way of life would hinder us from pursuing, we shall render our lives dull, uneasy, and melancholy.
But this objection is entirely groundless. For christian devotion requires us to renounce no ways of life, wherein we can act reasonably, and offer what we do to the glory ofGod. All ways of life, all satisfactions and enjoyments that are within these bounds, are no ways denied by the strictest rules of real devotion. And will you think that your life must beuncomfortable, unless you may displeaseGod, be fools and mad, and act contrary to that reason and wisdom which He has implanted in you?
As for those satisfactions which we dare not offer to a holyGod, which are only invented by the folly and corruption of the world, which inflame our passions, and sink our soulsinto grossness and sensuality, and thereby render us unmeet for communion withGodhere, and the eternal enjoyment of Him hereafter, surely it can be no uncomfortable state of life, to be rescued by religion from such murderers both of our souls and bodies.
Let us suppose a person destitute of that knowledge which we have from our senses, placed somewhere alone by himself, in the midst of a variety of things which he did not know how to use; that he has by him bread, wine, gold-dust, iron chains, gravel, garments, and fire. Let it be supposed, that he had no knowledge of the right use of these things, nor any direction from his senses how to quench his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or make any use of the things about him. Let it be supposed, that in his drought he puts gold dust into his eyes; when his eyes smart, he puts wine into his ears; that in his hunger, he puts gravel in his mouth: that in pain, he loads himself with the iron chains; that feeling cold, he puts his feet in the water; that being frighted at the fire, he runs away from it; and that being weary, he makes a seat of his bread. Let it be supposed, that through his ignorance of the right use of the things that are about him, he will vainly torment himself whilst he lives; and at last die, blinded with dust, choaked with gravel, and loaded with irons. Let it be supposed, that some good being came to him, and shewed him the nature and use of all the things that were about him, and gave him such strict rules of using them, as would certainly, if observed, make him the happier for all that he had, and deliver him from the pains of hunger, and thirst, and cold; could you with any reason affirm, that those strict rules of using the things that were about him, had rendered that poor man’s life dull and uncomfortable?
Now this is, in some measure, a representation of thestrict rulesof religion; they relieve our ignorance, save us from tormenting ourselves, and teach us to use every thing about us, not only to the glory ofGod, but to our own proper advantage.
If religion commands us to live wholly untoGod, and to do all to his glory, it is because every other way of life isliving wholly against ourselves, and will end in our own shame and confusion.
Would you see how happy they are, who live according to their own wills, and who cannot submit to the dull and melancholy business of a life devoted untoGod, look atFlatus;Flatusis rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness.
At his first setting out in life,fine cloathswas his delight; his enquiry was only after the best taylors and peruke-makers, and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectation, he left off hisbrocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and♦beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness.
♦“beaus” replaced with “beaux”
♦“beaus” replaced with “beaux”
♦“beaus” replaced with “beaux”
This new pleasure satisfied him for some time: he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate ofplaydrawn into aduel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off thedice, and sought for happiness no longer amongst the gamesters.
The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was thediversionsof the town; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and assemblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking. Here he had many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. Here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into afever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.
The next attempt after happiness, carried him into the field. For two or three years nothing made him so happy ashunting; he entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped more hedges and ditches than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in agreen coat; he was the envy of all that blew thehorn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the lastnoble chace. No sooner hadFlatusoutdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, new stables, andbought a newhunting-seat, but he immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in thepleasures of building.
Now he invents new kinds ofdove-cotes, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before: he wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement ofarchitecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst hisbrickandmortar, than ever he had atcourt; and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.
The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to every body ofmasonsandcarpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the happiness ofriding about. After this, you can never see him but on horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life, that he would tell you, give him but hishorseand aclean countryto ride in, and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure of this new way of life. But however, after some time having tired both himself and his horses, the happiest thing he could think of next, was to go abroad andvisit foreign countries; and there, indeed, the happiness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had begun so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, unable to bear any longer the impertinence offoreigners.
Alter this, he was a greatstudentfor one whole year; he was up early and late at hisItalian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding theopera, whenever he should hear one, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they don’t know what.
Flatusis now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before, he isreasoningand reflecting with himself. He loses several days, in considering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try again.
But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country, to gethimself into asgood windas anyrunning footmanin the kingdom.
I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars of this kind of life, because I hope, that every particular folly that you here see and read of, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.
But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life ofFlatus, is not the common state of those, who resign themselves up to live by their own humour, and neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life, as I would make it.
I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the mostgeneral charactersin life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it which belongs to them. But let it be granted, that thegeneralityof people are not of such restless, fickle tempers asFlatus; the difference is only this,Flatusis continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they do not leavegaming, and then fall tohunting; but they have so much steadiness in their tempers, that some seek after no other happiness, but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field; and others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.
Now is there any thing more happy or reasonable in such a life as this, than in the life ofFlatus? Is it not as great and desirable, as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard all your life? Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, or as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such a happiness as this?
But turn your eyes now another way, and let the glorious joys, the exquisite happiness ofFeliciana, teach you how miserable, and how dull they must needs be, and what a delusion they are in, whole hearts are not wholly devoted untoGod.
If you was to live withFelicianabut one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition ofthat which could never have pleased once, but through a wrong turn of mind, and want of thought.
She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting days. She is again to change the colours of her cloaths, again to have a new head, and again put patches on her face. She is again to see who acts best at the play-house, and who sings finest at the opera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely about nothing.
She is to be again delighted with some new fashion; and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again pleased with her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money.
She is again to prepare herself for a birth night, and again see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels, and partings.
If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprizing new dress, or new diversion just come to town.
These are all the substantial and regular parts ofFeliciana’s happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one or more of these things.
It is for this happiness, that she has been always deaf to the reasonings of religion; and if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can prevail on to live wholly untoGod; you will find most of them to be such, as lose all the comforts of religion, without gaining the tenth part ofFeliciana’s happiness. They are such as spend their time and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are only to be purchased by considerable fortunes.
Nor does a life only of such vanity and sensuality as that ofFlatusorFeliciana’s, but even the most regular kind of life, that is not governed bygreatdevotion, sufficiently shewshow dull and uncomfortable their lives must needs be, who are not wholly devoted untoGod.
Octaviusis a learned, ingenious man, well versed in most parts of literature, and no stranger to any kingdom inEurope. The other day, being just recovered from a lingering fever, he thus addressed his friends.
“My glass, says he, is almost run out; and your eyes see how many marks of age and death I bear about me: But I plainly feel myself sinking away faster than any standers by do imagine. I fully believe, that one year more will conclude my reckoning.”
The attention of his friends was much raised by such a declaration, expecting to hear something truly excellent from so learned a man, who had but a year longer to live; whenOctaviusproceeded in this manner: “For these reasons, my friends, I have left off all taverns, the wine of those places is not good enough for me in this decay of nature. I must now be nice in what I drink; I cannot pretend to do as I have done; and therefore am resolved to furnish my own cellar with a little of the very best, though it cost me ever so much.
I must also tell you, my friends, that age forces a man to be wise in many other respects, and makes us change many of our opinions and practices.
You know how much I have liked a large acquaintance; I now condemn it as an error. Three or four chearful, diverting companions, is all that I now desire; because I find, that in my present infirmities, if I am left alone, or to grave company, I am not so easy to myself.”
A few days afterOctaviushad made this declaration to his friends, he relapsed into his former illness, and was committed to a nurse, who closed his eyes before his fresh parcel of wine came in.
YoungEugenius, who was present at this discourse, went home a new man, with full resolutions of devoting himself toGod.“I never, saysEugenius, was so deeply affected with the wisdom and importance of religion, as when I saw how poorly and meanly the learnedOctaviuswas to leave the world, through the want of it.
How often had I envied his great learning, his skill in languages, his knowledge of antiquity, his address, and finemanner of expressing himself upon all subjects! But when I saw how poorly it all ended, what was to be the last year of such a life, and how foolishly the master of all these accomplishments was then forced to talk, I was then convinced that there must be nothing so happy and comfortable as a life of true devotion; nor any thing so poor and comfortless, as death without it.”
Look now at that condition of life, which draws the envy of all eyes.
Negotiusis a temperate honest man: he served his time under a master of great trade, but has by his own management made it a more considerable business than ever it was before. For thirty years past, he has written fifty or sixty letters in a week, and is busy in corresponding with all parts ofEurope. The general good of trade seems toNegotiusto be the general good of life; whomsoever he admires, whatever he commends, or condemns, either in church or state, is admired, commended, or condemned, with some regard to trade.
As money is continually pouring in upon him, so he often lets it go in various kinds of expence and generosity, and sometimes in ways of charity.
Negotiusis always ready to join in any public contribution: If a purse is making at any place where he happens to be, whether it be to buy a plate for a horse-race, or to redeem a prisoner out of jail, you are always sure of having something from him.
He has given a fine ring of bells to a church in the country; and there is much expectation, that he will some time or other make a more beautiful front to the market-house, than has yet been seen in any place. For it is the generous spirit ofNegotiusto do nothing in a mean way.
The generality of people, when they think of happiness, think uponNegotius, in whose life every instance of happiness is supposed to meet; sober, prudent, rich, prosperous, generous, and as the world thinks, charitable.
Let us now then look at this condition in another, but truer light.
Let it be supposed, that this sameNegotiuswas a painful, laborious man, every day deep in a variety of affairs; that he neither drank, nor was debauched; but was sober and regularin his business. Let it be supposed that he grew old in this course of trading; and that the end and design of all this labour, care, and application to business, was only that he might die possessed of more than a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats. Now if this was really the case, I believe it would be readily granted, that a life of such business was as poor and ridiculous, as any that can be invented. But it would puzzle any one to shew, that a man that has spent all his time and thoughts in business and hurry, that he might die, as it is said, worth a hundred thousand pounds, is any whit wiser than he, who has taken the same pains to have as many pair of boots and spurs when he leaves the world.
For if when he has gotten his hundred thousand pounds, or all his boots, his soul is to go to his own place, as every soul needs must that has not closed withJesus Christ, and is not born again ofGod; how can we say, that he who has worn out his life in raising an hundred thousand pounds, has acted a wiser part for himself, however his money may profit others, than he who has had the same care to provide a hundred thousand pair of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats?
It would be endless to multiply examples of this kind, to shew how little is lost, and how greatly they are mistaken, who imagine they should render themselves dull and comfortless by introducing a strict piety into every condition of human life.
Examples of great piety are not now common in the world; but the misery and folly of worldly men, and vain and trifling women, is what meets your eyes in every place; and you need not look far to see, how poorly, how vainly men dream away their lives for want of real devotion.
This is the reason that I have laid before you so many characters of the vanity of a worldly life, to teach you to make some benefit of the corruption of the age, and that you may be made wise, though not by the sight of what piety is, yet by seeing what misery and folly reign where piety is not.
To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the love ofGodinChrist, the glories ofheaven, the joys of saints and angels, living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not so suited to every capacity.
But to see and consider the emptiness and error of all worldly happiness; to see the grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of dress, the delusion of honour, the blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and the shortness of all worldly projects; these are meditations which are suited to all capacities, and fitted to strike all minds: This is that “wisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets,” that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing, and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes and chances of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness, which is only to be found in alife devoted toGod.
CHAPTERVIII.Shewing the excellency and greatness of a devout spirit, and proving that a contrary spirit, is an indication of great ignorance and stupidity.IHAVE now finished what was intended; I have explained the nature ofchristian devotion, and shewn that it belongs to all orders, and more especially to those whose fortunes set them above the common level of mankind. I have endeavoured to point out to you, thechief causesof the general indevotion of the professing christian world; and have shewn invarious characters, how poor, how miserable they live, who are strangers to a life wholly devoted toGod. I shall only add a word or two by way of conclusion, to prove that fervent devotion is the noblest temper of the greatest and noblest souls; and that a want of devotion, wherever it is, either amongst the learned or unlearned, is founded in gross ignorance,and in the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.And here, I suppose it will be granted on all hands, that it is a sign of a great and noble mind for a man to be full of reverence and duty to his parents, to have the truest love and honour for his friend, and to excel in the highest instances of gratitude to his benefactor. Are not these tempers, in the highest degree, signs of the most exalted and perfect minds?And yet what isdevotion, but the highest exercise of these tempers, ofduty,reverence,love,honour, andgratitude, to the amiable, gloriousparent,friendandbenefactorof all mankind? So long, therefore, as duty to parents, love to friends, and gratitude to benefactors, are thought great and honourable tempers; devotion, which is nothing else but duty, love, and gratitude toGod, must have the chief place amongst our highest virtues.Again; we know how our blessedLordacted in a human body; it was “his meat and drink to do the will of his Father which is in heaven.” And if any number of heavenly spirits were to leave their habitations in the light ofGod, and be for a while united to human bodies, they would certainly tend towardsGodin all their actions, and be as heavenly as they could, in a state of flesh and blood.They would act in this manner, because they know thatGodis the only good of all spirits; and that whether they were in the body or out of the body, in heaven or on earth, they must have every degree of their greatness and happiness fromGodalone. All human spirits therefore, the more exalted they are, and the more they know their divine original, and the nearer they come to heavenly spirits, by so much the more will they live toGodin all their actions, and make their whole life a state of devotion.Adevout manmakes a true use of his reason; he sees through the vanity of the world, discovers the corruption of his nature, and the blindness of his passions. He lives by alawwhich is not visible to vulgar eyes; he enters into the world ofspirits, he compares the greatest things, sets eternity against time; and chuses rather to be forever great in the presence ofGodwhen he dies, than to have the greatest share of worldly pleasures whilst he lives. There is nothing, therefore,that shews so great a genius, nothing that so raises us above vulgar spirits, nothing that so plainly declares anheroicgreatness of mind, as great and fervent devotion.When you suppose a man to be asaint, or all devotion, you have raised him as much above all other conditions of life, as aphilosopheris above ananimal.The greatest spirits of the heathen world, such as,Pythagoras,Socrates,Plato,Epictetus, andMarcus Antoninus, owed all their greatness to something they possessed, that resembled devotion. Their wisdom and deep contemplations, tended only to deliver men from the vanity of the world, and the slavery of bodily passions; and had they been endowed with the revelation ofJesus Christ, they might have justly been stiled great and devout men. For their main end of living, seemed to be, that they might act as spirits that came fromGod, and were soon to return to him.But to proceed: Courage and bravery are words of a great sound, and seem to signify an heroic spirit; but yet humility, which seems to be the lowest, meanest part of devotion, is a more certain argument of a noble and courageous mind. A man that dares be poor and contemptible in the eyes of the world, to approve himself toJesus Christ; that resists and rejects all human glory, that opposes the clamour of his passions, that meekly puts up all injuries and wrongs, and dares stay for his reward, till the invisible hand ofGodgives to every one their proper places, endures a much greater trial, and exerts a nobler fortitude, than he that is bold and daring in the fire of battle. For the boldness of a soldier, if he is a stranger to devotion, is rather weakness than fortitude; it is at best but mad passion, and heated spirits, and has no more true valour in it, than the fury of a tyger. For as we cannot lift up a hand, or stir a foot, but by a power that is lent us fromGod; so bold actions that are not directed by the laws ofGod, and done with a regard to his glory, are no more true bravery, than sedate malice is christian patience.Farther; That part of devotion which expresses itself in sorrowful confessions, and penitential tears of a broken and contrite heart, which with some seems likewise another of the poorest and meanest things; is notwithstanding an indication of the most great and noble mind. For who does not acknowledgeit an instance of an ingenuous, generous and brave mind, to acknowledge a fault, and ask pardon for any offence? Are not the finest and most improved minds the most remarkable for this excellent temper? Is it not also allowed, that the ingenuity and excellency of a man’s spirit is much shewn, when his sorrow and indignation at himself, rises in proportion to the folly of his crime, and the goodness and greatness of the person he has offended? Now if these things are so, then the greater any man’s mind is, the more he will be disposed to prostrate himself, and confess his faults beforeGod, in all the humblest acts and expressions of repentance. And the greater the ingenuity, the generosity, judgment, and penetration of his mind is, the more will he exercise and indulge a passionate, tender sense ofGod’s just displeasure; and the more he knows of the greatness, the goodness, and perfection of the divine nature, the fuller of shame and confusion he will be at his own sins and ingratitude.From all which considerations, it plainly appears, that devotion is a true elevation of the soul, and that a lively sense of honour, and great knowledge of ourselves, are the best natural helps that devotion hath. And if this does not prove, thatgreat devotionis thenoblest temperof the greatest andnoblest souls, we have not an argument to prove, that there is any such thing as a wise man or a fool.On the other hand, it will as evidently appear that a want of devotion, wherever it is, among the learned or unlearned, is founded on gross ignorance, and the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.People indeed of fine parts and learning, or of great knowledge in worldly matters, may perhaps think it hard to have their want of devotion charged upon their ignorance; but if they will be content to be tried by reason and scripture, it may soon be made appear. For were not ourLordand his apostles, eminent instances of great and exalted devotion? And if we will grant, (as all professed christians must grant) that their devotion was founded on a true knowledge of the nature of devotion, the nature ofGod, and the nature of man; then it is plain, that all those who are insensible of devotion, neither knowGod, themselves, nor devotion.Pray how comes it to pass, that most people have recourseto devotion, when they are under sickness, distress, or in fear of death? Is it not, because this state shews them more the want ofGod, and their own weakness, than they perceive at other times? And if devotion at these seasons, is the effect of a better knowledge ofGod, and ourselves, then the neglect and want of it at other times must be always owing to ignorance. Ignorance did I say? Yes, undoubtedly, and that the mostshameful ignorance: for it is an ignorance of those things, which are most essential to us as rational creatures; I mean our relation toGod, and the obligations we lie under to live wholly to his glory.If a Judge had fine skill in painting, architecture, and music, but at the same time had gross and confused notions of equity, and a poor, dull apprehension of the value of justice, who would scruple to reckon him a poor ignorant Judge? If a Bishop should be a man of great address and skill in the art of preferment, and of a quick understanding how to raise and enrich his family in the world, but should have no taste or sense of the maxims and principles of the saints and fathers of the church; if he did not conceive the holy nature, and great obligations of his calling, and judge it better to be crucified to the world, than to live idly in pomp and splendor; who would scruple to charge such a Bishop with want of understanding?But now, if a Judge is to be reckoned ignorant, nay shamefully so, if he does not feel and perceive the value and worth of justice; if a Bishop is to be looked upon as void of understanding, if he is more experienced in other things, than in the exalted virtues of his apostolical calling; then all common christians are to be looked upon as more or less shamefully ignorant, as they are more or less ignorant of those great things, which are the common, and ought to be the greatest concern of all christians.If a man had eyes that could see beyond the stars, or pierce into the heart of the earth, but could not see the things that were before him, or discern any thing that was serviceable to him, we should reckon that he had but a very bad sight. And if another had ears that received sounds from the world in the moon, but could hear nothing that was said or done upon earth, we should look upon him to be as bad as deaf.In like manner, if a man has a memory that can retain a great many things; if he has a wit that is sharp and acute in arts and sciences, or an imagination that can wander agreeably in fictions; but has a dull, poor apprehension of his duty and relation toGod, of the value of piety, or the worth of an interest in the righteousness ofJesus Christ, he may very justly be reckoned to have a very bad understanding. He is but like the man that can only see or hear such things as are of no benefit to him.If an human spirit should imagine some mighty Prince to be greater thanGod, we should take it for a poor, ignorant creature; all people would acknowledge such an imagination to be the height of stupidity: But if this same human spirit should think it better to be devoted to some mighty Prince, than to be devoted toGod, would not this be a greater proof of a poor, ignorant, and blinded nature?Yet this is what all people do, who think any thing greater, better, or wiser, than a devout life. So that which way soever we consider this matter, it plainly appears, that devotion is an instance of great judgment, and of an elevated nature; and the want of devotion is a certain proof of the most shameful ignorance, and want of understanding.Would you therefore not incur the imputation of the highest folly, and most shameful ignorance; would you be possessed of the noblest and most exalted judgment; would you avoid the senseless and vexatious miseries that attend a vain, sensual, and indevout life; would you act like a rational and redeemed creature; would you enjoy solid peace and happiness here, and have a well grounded hope and assurance of being invested with eternal joy and comfort in the blissful fruition of the glorious and ever-blessedGodhereafter; let it be your highest concern henceforward, to ask, seek, and knock at the door of divine grace, till you obtain a true living faith in the righteousness of the once humbled but now exalted Redeemer, and as a proof of that, to devote yourself entirely, without reserve, to his honour, and do all the good you possibly can to all your fellow-creatures, for his great name’s sake.
Shewing the excellency and greatness of a devout spirit, and proving that a contrary spirit, is an indication of great ignorance and stupidity.
IHAVE now finished what was intended; I have explained the nature ofchristian devotion, and shewn that it belongs to all orders, and more especially to those whose fortunes set them above the common level of mankind. I have endeavoured to point out to you, thechief causesof the general indevotion of the professing christian world; and have shewn invarious characters, how poor, how miserable they live, who are strangers to a life wholly devoted toGod. I shall only add a word or two by way of conclusion, to prove that fervent devotion is the noblest temper of the greatest and noblest souls; and that a want of devotion, wherever it is, either amongst the learned or unlearned, is founded in gross ignorance,and in the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.
And here, I suppose it will be granted on all hands, that it is a sign of a great and noble mind for a man to be full of reverence and duty to his parents, to have the truest love and honour for his friend, and to excel in the highest instances of gratitude to his benefactor. Are not these tempers, in the highest degree, signs of the most exalted and perfect minds?
And yet what isdevotion, but the highest exercise of these tempers, ofduty,reverence,love,honour, andgratitude, to the amiable, gloriousparent,friendandbenefactorof all mankind? So long, therefore, as duty to parents, love to friends, and gratitude to benefactors, are thought great and honourable tempers; devotion, which is nothing else but duty, love, and gratitude toGod, must have the chief place amongst our highest virtues.
Again; we know how our blessedLordacted in a human body; it was “his meat and drink to do the will of his Father which is in heaven.” And if any number of heavenly spirits were to leave their habitations in the light ofGod, and be for a while united to human bodies, they would certainly tend towardsGodin all their actions, and be as heavenly as they could, in a state of flesh and blood.
They would act in this manner, because they know thatGodis the only good of all spirits; and that whether they were in the body or out of the body, in heaven or on earth, they must have every degree of their greatness and happiness fromGodalone. All human spirits therefore, the more exalted they are, and the more they know their divine original, and the nearer they come to heavenly spirits, by so much the more will they live toGodin all their actions, and make their whole life a state of devotion.
Adevout manmakes a true use of his reason; he sees through the vanity of the world, discovers the corruption of his nature, and the blindness of his passions. He lives by alawwhich is not visible to vulgar eyes; he enters into the world ofspirits, he compares the greatest things, sets eternity against time; and chuses rather to be forever great in the presence ofGodwhen he dies, than to have the greatest share of worldly pleasures whilst he lives. There is nothing, therefore,that shews so great a genius, nothing that so raises us above vulgar spirits, nothing that so plainly declares anheroicgreatness of mind, as great and fervent devotion.
When you suppose a man to be asaint, or all devotion, you have raised him as much above all other conditions of life, as aphilosopheris above ananimal.
The greatest spirits of the heathen world, such as,Pythagoras,Socrates,Plato,Epictetus, andMarcus Antoninus, owed all their greatness to something they possessed, that resembled devotion. Their wisdom and deep contemplations, tended only to deliver men from the vanity of the world, and the slavery of bodily passions; and had they been endowed with the revelation ofJesus Christ, they might have justly been stiled great and devout men. For their main end of living, seemed to be, that they might act as spirits that came fromGod, and were soon to return to him.
But to proceed: Courage and bravery are words of a great sound, and seem to signify an heroic spirit; but yet humility, which seems to be the lowest, meanest part of devotion, is a more certain argument of a noble and courageous mind. A man that dares be poor and contemptible in the eyes of the world, to approve himself toJesus Christ; that resists and rejects all human glory, that opposes the clamour of his passions, that meekly puts up all injuries and wrongs, and dares stay for his reward, till the invisible hand ofGodgives to every one their proper places, endures a much greater trial, and exerts a nobler fortitude, than he that is bold and daring in the fire of battle. For the boldness of a soldier, if he is a stranger to devotion, is rather weakness than fortitude; it is at best but mad passion, and heated spirits, and has no more true valour in it, than the fury of a tyger. For as we cannot lift up a hand, or stir a foot, but by a power that is lent us fromGod; so bold actions that are not directed by the laws ofGod, and done with a regard to his glory, are no more true bravery, than sedate malice is christian patience.
Farther; That part of devotion which expresses itself in sorrowful confessions, and penitential tears of a broken and contrite heart, which with some seems likewise another of the poorest and meanest things; is notwithstanding an indication of the most great and noble mind. For who does not acknowledgeit an instance of an ingenuous, generous and brave mind, to acknowledge a fault, and ask pardon for any offence? Are not the finest and most improved minds the most remarkable for this excellent temper? Is it not also allowed, that the ingenuity and excellency of a man’s spirit is much shewn, when his sorrow and indignation at himself, rises in proportion to the folly of his crime, and the goodness and greatness of the person he has offended? Now if these things are so, then the greater any man’s mind is, the more he will be disposed to prostrate himself, and confess his faults beforeGod, in all the humblest acts and expressions of repentance. And the greater the ingenuity, the generosity, judgment, and penetration of his mind is, the more will he exercise and indulge a passionate, tender sense ofGod’s just displeasure; and the more he knows of the greatness, the goodness, and perfection of the divine nature, the fuller of shame and confusion he will be at his own sins and ingratitude.
From all which considerations, it plainly appears, that devotion is a true elevation of the soul, and that a lively sense of honour, and great knowledge of ourselves, are the best natural helps that devotion hath. And if this does not prove, thatgreat devotionis thenoblest temperof the greatest andnoblest souls, we have not an argument to prove, that there is any such thing as a wise man or a fool.
On the other hand, it will as evidently appear that a want of devotion, wherever it is, among the learned or unlearned, is founded on gross ignorance, and the greatest blindness and insensibility that can happen to a rational creature.
People indeed of fine parts and learning, or of great knowledge in worldly matters, may perhaps think it hard to have their want of devotion charged upon their ignorance; but if they will be content to be tried by reason and scripture, it may soon be made appear. For were not ourLordand his apostles, eminent instances of great and exalted devotion? And if we will grant, (as all professed christians must grant) that their devotion was founded on a true knowledge of the nature of devotion, the nature ofGod, and the nature of man; then it is plain, that all those who are insensible of devotion, neither knowGod, themselves, nor devotion.
Pray how comes it to pass, that most people have recourseto devotion, when they are under sickness, distress, or in fear of death? Is it not, because this state shews them more the want ofGod, and their own weakness, than they perceive at other times? And if devotion at these seasons, is the effect of a better knowledge ofGod, and ourselves, then the neglect and want of it at other times must be always owing to ignorance. Ignorance did I say? Yes, undoubtedly, and that the mostshameful ignorance: for it is an ignorance of those things, which are most essential to us as rational creatures; I mean our relation toGod, and the obligations we lie under to live wholly to his glory.
If a Judge had fine skill in painting, architecture, and music, but at the same time had gross and confused notions of equity, and a poor, dull apprehension of the value of justice, who would scruple to reckon him a poor ignorant Judge? If a Bishop should be a man of great address and skill in the art of preferment, and of a quick understanding how to raise and enrich his family in the world, but should have no taste or sense of the maxims and principles of the saints and fathers of the church; if he did not conceive the holy nature, and great obligations of his calling, and judge it better to be crucified to the world, than to live idly in pomp and splendor; who would scruple to charge such a Bishop with want of understanding?
But now, if a Judge is to be reckoned ignorant, nay shamefully so, if he does not feel and perceive the value and worth of justice; if a Bishop is to be looked upon as void of understanding, if he is more experienced in other things, than in the exalted virtues of his apostolical calling; then all common christians are to be looked upon as more or less shamefully ignorant, as they are more or less ignorant of those great things, which are the common, and ought to be the greatest concern of all christians.
If a man had eyes that could see beyond the stars, or pierce into the heart of the earth, but could not see the things that were before him, or discern any thing that was serviceable to him, we should reckon that he had but a very bad sight. And if another had ears that received sounds from the world in the moon, but could hear nothing that was said or done upon earth, we should look upon him to be as bad as deaf.In like manner, if a man has a memory that can retain a great many things; if he has a wit that is sharp and acute in arts and sciences, or an imagination that can wander agreeably in fictions; but has a dull, poor apprehension of his duty and relation toGod, of the value of piety, or the worth of an interest in the righteousness ofJesus Christ, he may very justly be reckoned to have a very bad understanding. He is but like the man that can only see or hear such things as are of no benefit to him.
If an human spirit should imagine some mighty Prince to be greater thanGod, we should take it for a poor, ignorant creature; all people would acknowledge such an imagination to be the height of stupidity: But if this same human spirit should think it better to be devoted to some mighty Prince, than to be devoted toGod, would not this be a greater proof of a poor, ignorant, and blinded nature?
Yet this is what all people do, who think any thing greater, better, or wiser, than a devout life. So that which way soever we consider this matter, it plainly appears, that devotion is an instance of great judgment, and of an elevated nature; and the want of devotion is a certain proof of the most shameful ignorance, and want of understanding.
Would you therefore not incur the imputation of the highest folly, and most shameful ignorance; would you be possessed of the noblest and most exalted judgment; would you avoid the senseless and vexatious miseries that attend a vain, sensual, and indevout life; would you act like a rational and redeemed creature; would you enjoy solid peace and happiness here, and have a well grounded hope and assurance of being invested with eternal joy and comfort in the blissful fruition of the glorious and ever-blessedGodhereafter; let it be your highest concern henceforward, to ask, seek, and knock at the door of divine grace, till you obtain a true living faith in the righteousness of the once humbled but now exalted Redeemer, and as a proof of that, to devote yourself entirely, without reserve, to his honour, and do all the good you possibly can to all your fellow-creatures, for his great name’s sake.