Which course, that it may have a blessed issue with him, | such circumstances, as shall make it impossible to be comwho dare venture to deny or doubt? And what have we to say hereupon, but that in great wisdom and mercy, our Saviour hath only told us there is such a sin, and what the general nature of it is, or whereabouts it lies, but the judgment of particular cases wherein, or of the very pitch and degree of malignity wherewith, it is committed, he hath reserved to himself; intending further to strive with persons by his Spirit, while he judges them yet within the reach of mercy, or withhold it, when he sees any to have arrived to that culminating pitch of malignity, and obstinacy, wherein he shall judge this sin specially to consist? And what inconvenience is it to suppose he hath left this matter, touching the degree, humanly undeterminable? The knowledge of it can do them who have committed it no good: and probably they have by it so blinded and stupified their own souls, as to have made themselves very little capable of apprehending that they have committed it, or of considering whether they have or no. But they are sunk into a deep abyss of darkness and death, so as that such knowledge may be as little possible, as it would be useful to them. All their faculties of intellection, consideration, and self-reflection, being (as to any such exercise) bound up in a stupifying dead sleep. And to what purpose should they have a rule by which to determine a case, who-1. Can receive no benefit by the determination, and-2. Who are supposed when they use it, to have no faculty sufficiently apt to make this sad (but true) judgment of their case by it? But for them who have not committed it, and who are consequently yet capable of benefit by what should be made known about it, there is, therefore, enough made known for their real use and benefit. It will,

1. Be of real use to many such, to know their danger of running into it. And it is sufficient to that purpose, that they are plainly told wherein the general nature of it consists, or whereabouts it lies; without showing them the very point that hath certain death in it; or letting them know just how near they may approach it, without being sure to perish, when there is danger enough in every step they take toward it. As if there were some horrid desert, into any part whereof no man hath any business to come, but in some part whereof there is a dreadful gulf, whence arises a contagious halitus, which, if he come within the verge of it, will be certainly poisonous and mortal to him. What need is there that any man should know just how near he may come, without being sure to die for it? He is concerned to keep himself at a cautious awful dis

tance.

2. It may be of great use to others, that are afflicted with very torturing fears lest they have committed it, to know that they have not. And they have enough also to satisfy them in the case. For their very fear itself, with its usual concomitants in such afflicted minds, is an argument to them that they have not. While they find in themselves any value of Divine favour, any dread of his wrath, any disposition to consider the state of their souls, with any thought or design of turning to God, and making their peace; they have reason to conclude God hath hitherto kept them out of that fearful gulf; and is yet in the way, and in treaty with them. For since we are not sufficient to think any thing (that good is) of ourselves, it is much more reasonable to ascribe any such thought or agitation of spirit that have this design to him, than to ourselves, and to account that he is yet at work with us, (at least in the way of common grace,) though when our thoughts drive towards a conclusion against ourselves, that we have committed that sin, and towards despair thereupon, we are to apprehend a mixture of temptation in them, which we are concerned earnestly to watch and pray against. And yet even such temptation is an argument of such a one's not having committed that sin. For such as the devil may apprehend more likely to have committed it, (and 'tis not to be thought he can be sure who have,) he will be less apt to trouble with such thoughts, not knowing what the issue of that unquietness may prove, and apprehending it may occasion their escaping quite out of his snare. And I do conceive this to be a safer method, of satisfying such as are perplexed with this fear in our days, han to be positive in stating that sin so, or limiting it to

mitted in this age of the world. For let it be seriously
considered, whether it be altogether an unsupposable thing,
that, with some in our days, there may be an equivalency,
in point of light and evidence of the truth of Christianity,
unto what these Jews had, whom our Saviour warns of
the danger of this sin, at that time when he so warned
them; his warning and cautioning them about it, implies
that he judged them at least in a possibility, at that time,
of incurring the guilt of it; if the text Matt. xii. do not
also imply that he reckoned them, then, actually to have
committed it. For it is said, ver. 25. he knew their thoughts,
i. e. considered the temper of their minds, and thereupon
said to them what follows concerning it. Let us con-
sider wherein their advantage towards their being ascer-
tained of the truth of the Christian religion, was greater
than we now can have. It was chiefly in this respect great-
er, that they had a nearer and more immediate know-
ledge of the matter of fact, wherein that evidence which
our Saviour refers to did consist. A more immediate way
of knowing it they had; the most immediate the persons
whom he warns (or charges) seem not to have had for
those Pharisees, it is said, heard of the cure of the demo-
niac, not that they saw it. They took it upon the (no
doubt sufficiently credible) report of others. Now let it be
further considered, what we have to balance this one
single advantage. We have, to intelligent considering
persons, rationally sufficient evidence of the same matter
of fact. But how great things, that have since followed,
have we the sufficiently certain knowledge of besides, be-
yond what they had in view, at that time. As the won-
derful death of our Lord, exactly according to prediction,
in many respects, together with all the unforetold amazing
circumstances that attended it! His more wonderful re-
surrection, upon which so great a stress is laid for demon-
strating the truth of the religion he taught: the destruction
of Jerusalem, as he foretold, and the shattered condition
of the Jewish nation, as was also foretold, ever since: the
strange success of the Gospel in the first, and some follow-
ing ages, by so unlikely means, against the greatest oppo-
sition imaginable, both of Jews and pagans. Not to insist
on the apostacy foretold, in the Christian church, with
many more things that might be mentioned. Let it be
considered whether the want of so immediate way of
knowing some of these things be not abundantly compen-
sated by the greatness of the other things that are however
sufficiently known. And if such as have wit and leisure
to consider these things in our days, are often pressed to
consider them, have them frequently represented, and laid
before their eyes, if such, I say, have in view as great
evidence, upon the whole, of the truth of Christianity, as
these Pharisees had; it is then further to be considered,
whether it be not possible that some such may equal the
Jewish malice, against the holy design of our religion.
To which I only say, the Lord grant that none may. But
if there be really cause to apprehend such a danger, some
other way should be thought of to cure the trouble of some
than by the danger and (too probable) ruin of others.
However, none should themselves make their own case
incurable, by concluding that they have sinned that sin,
or by believing they are, otherwise forsaken and rejected
of God; so as that he will never more assist their en-
deavour to repent, and turn to him through the Medi-
ator.

If it be inquired here, since, as hath been shown, some may be quite forsaken of God, while yet they live in the world; ought such to believe then they are not forsaken, and so believe an untruth that they may make it true, or try if they can better their condition by it? I answer, nor that neither. For that God will further assist an obstinate sinner, that hath long resisted his Spirit, and despised his mercy, is no matter of promise to him, and so no matter of faith. When he doth conquer, at length, any such, 'tis of mere unpromised favour; (as was also shown ;) whereof therefore he gives others no ground to despair; and for which they are deeply concerned, with great earnestness, to supplicate. But if it be said, how can they pray for that whereof they have no promise? and can have no faith, since what is not of faith is sin, Rom. xiv. 23. I answer, that passage of Scripture would, in this case be much mis

applied. It speaks not of faith concerning the certainty of
any event to be expected, but the lawfulness of a work to
be done, and of doubting, not concerning the event, but
my own act.
Can any man in his wits doubt concerning
his own act in this case? whether it be better to pray for
the grace of God to save him, than slight it and perish?
Nor are they without very encouraging promises concern-
ing the event, that God will be a rewarder of them that
diligently seek him, Heb. xi. 6. And that whosoever shall
call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved, Rom. x. 13.
which promises 'tis true the context of both shows, do speak
of believing prayer. They are to faith, not of it, and im-
port, that God will reward and save the believer: not that
he will give faith to the obstinate, contemptuous unbe-
liever. If he do this, 'tis (as was said) of unpromised
bounty. But though they are not promises to give faith,
they should induce it; and incline sinners to cast them-
selves down before the throne of so gracious a God, and
seek grace to help them in their need, in confidence that
he will never reject penitent believing prayer. They, in-
deed, that for their former wilful sinning are utterly for-
saken of God, will not thus apply themselves; but our
question is not what they will do, but what they should.
Because they would not, therefore they were forsaken, and
because they yet will not, they are still and finally for-
saken. Their refusal proceeds not from any discourage-
ment God hath given them, but from the malignity of their
own hearts. God hath not repealed his Gospel towards
them. The connexion continues firm between the precep-
tive and promissory parts of it. Their infidelity is not be-
come their duty, but remains their heinous sin, and the
more deeply heinous hy how much their own malignity
holds them more strongly in it.

questionist, (Rom. ix. 19.) but impertinently, when God's will of another (not a contrary) kind, i. e. concerning another object, was in the same breath referred unto, Why doth he yet find fault? 'Tis not the will of the event that is the measure of faultiness; for then there could not have been sin in the world, nor consequently misery, which only, by the Creator's pleasure, stands connected with it. For nothing could fall out against that irresistible will. The objector then destroys his own objection, so absurdly, and so manifestly, as not to deserve any other reply than that which he meets with. Nay, but who art thou, O man, that repliest against God?

And what is the other object about which the Divine will is also conversant? Matter of duty, and what stands in connexion with it, not abstractly and separately, but as it is so connected, our felicity. This is objectively another will, as we justly distinguish Divine acts, that respect the creature, by their indifferent objects. Against this will falls out all the sin and misery in the world.

All this seems plain and clear, but is not enough. For it may be further said, When God wills this or that to be my duty, doth he not will this event, viz. my doing it? otherwise wherein is his will withstood, or not fulfilled, in my not doing it? He willed this to be my duty, and it is so. I do not nor can hinder it from being so, yet I do it not, and that he willed not. If all that his will meant was that this should be my duty, but my doing it was not intended; his will is entirely accomplished, it hath its full effect, in that such things are constituted, and do remain my duty, upon his signification of this his will, my not doing it not being within the compass of the object, or the thing willed.

If it be said, he willed my doing it, i. e. that I should do it, not that I shall, the same answer will recur, viz. that his will hath still its full effect, this effect still remaining, that I should do it, but that I shall he willed not.

sonable, and unintelligible, that he should will to oblige me to that, which he doth not will me to do.

Unto what also is discoursed concerning anger and grief, (or other passions,) ascribed to God, it will not be unfit here to add, that unless they be allowed to signify real aversion of will, no account is to be given what re- It may be said, I do plainly go against his will however; ality in him they can signify at all. For to say (what for his will was that I should do so, or so, and I do not some do seem to satisfy themselves with) that they are to what he willed I should. 'Tis true, I go herein against his be understood secundum effectum, not secundum affectum, will, if he willed not only my obligation, but my action, acthough true as to the negative part, is, as to the affirma-cording to it. And indeed it seems altogether unreative, very defective and short; for the effects of anger and grief, upon which those names are put, when spoken of God, are not themselves in him, but in us. But we are still at a loss what they signify in him. Such effects must have some cause. And if they be effects which he works, they must have some cause in himself that is before them, and productive of them. This account leaves us to seek what that cause is, that is signified by these names. That it cannot be any passion, as the same names are wont to signify with us, is out of question. Nor indeed do those names primarily, and most properly, signify passion in ourselves. The passion is consequently only by reason of that inferior nature in us, which is susceptible of it. But the aversion of our mind and will is before it, and, in another subject, very separable from it, and possible to be without it. In the blessed God we cannot understand any thing less is signified than real displicency, at the things whereat he is said to be angry or grieved.

Our shallow reason indeed is apt to suggest in these matters, Why is not that prevented that is so displeasing? And it would be said with equal reason in reference to all sin permitted to be in the world, Why was it not prevented? And what is to be said to this? Shall it be said that sin doth not displease God? that he hath no will against sin? It is not repugnant to his will? Yes; it is to his revealed will, to his law. But is that an untrue revelation? His law is not his will itself, but the signum, the discovery of his will. Now, is it an insignificant sign? a sign that signifies nothing? or to which there belong no correspondent significatum? nothing that is signified by it? Is that which is signified (for sure no one will say it signifies nothing) his real will, yea or no? who can deny it? That will, then, (and a most calm, sedate, impassionate will it must be understood to be,) sin, and consequently the consequent miseries of his creatures, are repugnant unto. And what will is that? 'Tis not a peremptory will concerning the event, for the event falls out otherwise; which were, upon that supposition, impossible; for who hath resisted his will ? as was truly intimated by the personated

Therefore it seems out of question, that the holy God doth constantly and perpetually, in a true sense, will universal obedience, and the consequent felicity of all his creatures capable thereof; i. e. he doth will it with simple complacency, as what were highly grateful to him, simply considered by itself. Who can doubt, but that purity, holiness, blessedness, wheresoever they were to be beheld among his creatures, would be a pleasing and delightful spectacle to him, being most agreeable to the perfect excellency, purity, and benignity of his own nature, and that their deformity and misery must be consequently unpleasing? But he doth not efficaciously will every thing that he truly wills. He never willed the obedience of all his intelligent creatures so, as effectually to make them all obey, nor their happiness, so as to make them all be happy, as the event shows. Nothing can be more certain, than that he did not so will these things; for then nothing could have fallen out to the contrary, as we see much hath. Nor is it at all unworthy the love and goodness of his nature not so to have willed, with that effective will, the universal fulness, sinlessness, and felicity of all his intelligent creatures. The Divine nature comprehends all excellencies in itself, and is not to be limited to that one only of benignity, or an aptness to acts of beneficence. For then it were not infinite, not absolutely perfect, and so not divine. All the acts of his will must be consequently conform and agreeable to the most perfect wisdom. He doth all things according to the counsel of his will. He wills, 'tis true, the rectitude of our actions, and what would be consequent thereto, but he first, and more principally, wills the rectitude of his own. And not only not to do an unrighteous, but not an inept, or unfit thing. We find he did not think it fit efficaciously to provide concerning all men, that they should be made obedient and happy, as he hath concerning some. That in the general he makes a difference, is to be attributed to his wisdom, i. e. his wisdom hath in the general made this determination,

THE

CARNALITY OF RELIGIOUS CONTENTION,

IN TWO SERMONS,

PREACHED AT THE MERCHANT'S LECTURE, IN BROAD STREET.

THE PREFACE TO THE READERS.

THIS title nobody can think is meant to condemn all contention about matters of religion as carnal; but since there is too much which is apparently so, it only signifies it to be the design of the following discourse to show what contention that is, and when, or in what case, though it hath religion for its object, it may not have it for its principle, but that very frequently, the lust of the flesh hides itself under that specious name. And to show wherein, while it affects to hide, yet unawares it discovers itself, in the management of affairs of that sacred kind. Thus it often really is; and then is that noble cause as ignobly served, as when (according to that father's observation) a man proves to be unfaithful even for the faith, and sacrilegious for religion.

When in one place (Jude 3.) Christians are exhorted to contend earnestly for the faith; and in another (2 Tim. ii. 24.) we are told the servant of the Lord must not strive; 'tis plain there is a contention for religion, which is a duty, and there is a contention even concerning religion too, which is a sin. And that sin the apostle, in this context, out of which our discourse arises, doth deservedly expose by the name of flesh, and of the lust, or of the works thereof; such as wrath, variance, envy, hatred, &c. Whence it is easy to collect in what sense it is said in the mentioned place, the servant of the Lord must not strive, viz. as that striving excludes the gentleness, the aptness to instruct, and the patience, which are in the same place enjoined, where that striving is forbidden. And from thence it is equally easy to collect too, in what sense we ought to contend for the faith earnestly, i. e. with all that earnestness which will consist with these, not with such as excludes them: as earnestly as you will, but with a sedate mind, full of charity, candour, kindness, and benignity towards them we strive with. We ought, we see, (in the mentioned place,) to be patient towards all men. Towards fellow-Christians there should certainly be a more peculiar brotherly kindness. The difference is very great, and most discernible in the effects, between the church's contention against enemies without it, and contentions within itself. The former unite it the more, increase its strength and vigour. The latter divide and enfeeble it. As to those of this latter kind, nothing is more evident, or deserves to be more considered, than that as the Christian church hath grown more carnal, it hath grown more contentious, and as more contentious, still more and more carnal. The savour hath been lost of the great things of the Gospel, which have less matter in them of dispute or doubt, but which only did afford proper nutriment to the life of godliness; and it hath diverted to lesser things, (or invented such as were, otherwise, none at all,) about which the contentious, disputative genius might employ, and wherewith it might entertain, feed, and satiate itself.

Thereby hath it grown strong and vigorous, and acquired the power to transform the church from a spiritual society, enlivened, acted, and governed by the Spirit of Christ, into a mere carnal thing, like the rest of the world. Carnality hath become, and long been in it, a governing principle, and hath torn it into God knows how many fragments and parties; each of which will now be the church, enclose itself within its own peculiar limits, exclusive of all the rest, claim and appropriate to itself the rights and privileges which belong to the Christian church in common, yea, and even Christ himself, as if he were to be so enclosed or confined: and hence it is said, Lo, here is Christ, or there he is, till he is scarce to be found any where; but as, through merciful indulgence, overlooking our sinful follies, he is pleased to afford some tokens of his presence both here and there. Yet also how manifest are the tokens of his displeasure and retirement! And how few will apprehend and consider the true cause! I will now adventure to offer these things to serious consideration.

1. Whether for any party of Christians to make unto itself other limits of communion than Christ hath made, and hedge up itself within those limits, excluding those whom Christ would admit, and admitting those whom he would exclude, be not in itself a real sin? When I say make to itself, this more peculiarly concerns those who form their own communions, having nothing herein imposed upon them by civil authority. Let others censure themselves as they see cause. They have a holy table among them, the symbol of their communion with one another in the Lord. I would ask, "Whose is this table? Is it the table of this or that man, or party of men? or is it the Lord's table?" Then certainly it ought to be free to his guests, and appropriate to them. And who should dare to invite others, or forbid these?

2. If it be a sin, is it not a heinous one? This will best be understood by considering what his limits are. Nothing

Cypr. de Simplicit. Prol.

seems plainer than that it was his mind, Christianity itself should measure the communion of Christians, as such, visible Christianity their visible communion. It will here then be inquired (as in all reason it should) what Christianity is. And if it be, every one will understand the inquiry concerning that, as they would concerning any thing else, what is its essence? or what are its essentials, or wherein doth it consist? Not what are all the several accidents it may admit of? as you would do, if it were inquired, What is humanity? Now here it will be readily acknowledged that Christianity (as all things else that are of moral consideration) must be estimated more principally by its end, and that its final reference is not to this world, but to the world to come, and to a happy state there. And that, considering the miserable state wherein it finds the souls of men here, and the greater misery they are hereafter liable to, it must design their present recovery, and finally, their eternal salvation.

That in order hereto it must propound to men some things necessary to be believed, some things necessary to be done. And that both must intend the making of them good in order to the making them happy, or the saving of them from eternal misery. That both are sufficiently propounded by the kind and great Author of this constitution, Christ himself, in his word or Gospel. That this Gospel, besides many incidental things, expressly represents some things as of absolute necessity to salvation, by which are settled the very terms of life and death, unto sinners; and as a principal, most comprehensive, and most fundamental thing to all the rest, requires men's resigning and subjecting themselves unto him; or putting themselves by solemn covenant into his hands, or under his conduct, to be by him brought to God, and made finally happy in him.

Whatsoever therefore is of absolute necessity to this end is essential to Christianity. Christians then are a sort of men tending to God and blessedness under the conduct of Christ, to whom they have by covenant devoted themselves, and to God in him. Visible Christians are such as are in this visible tendency, with their children, yet in minority, and not capable of making an understanding profession themselves. Such as have arrived to that capacity are no longer to be considered in their parents, but apart by themselves. They that have been sufficiently instructed in the principles of the Christian religion, that have devoted themselves to God in Christ, and live in their general course conformably to his holy rules, are visibly personal covenanters. 'Tis plainly the mind of Christ, that those be received into that plenary communion which belongs to the Christian state; and particularly, unto that sacred rite which is the communion of his body and blood, and wherein the new testament or covenant hath its solemn obligation, and wherein as fœderati, or persons in covenant, they have more express communion with him, and one another. They that are yet unacquainted with the most necessary things of Christian religion, are to be held as catechumens under instruction, if they be willing. They that live licentiously in the state of penitents, till they give that proof of their serious repentance, as that their profession thereof appear not to be slight and ludicrous; they that refuse to learn, or be reformed, that live in open hostility against the known laws of Christ; are not visible Christians, are not visibly in the way of salvation. Visible subjection and visible rebellion are inconsistencies. If therefore any society of men, professedly Christians, do make other limits of their communion; admitting those that Christ's rule excludes, excluding them whom it would admit; especially, if the alteration be, not only by the making those things necessary which he hath not revealed or enjoined as necessary, but which he hath not revealed or enjoined at all; and so is not only to add to Christian religion taken at large, but even to its essentials; this is substantially to change the evangelical covenant, to make it another thing, to break Christ's constitution, and set up another. If they be little things only that we add, we must know that there is nihil minimum in religion. What, if as little as they are, many think them sinful, and are thereby thrown off from our communion? The less they are, the greater the sin to make them necessary, to hang so great things upon them, break the church's peace and unity by them, and of them to make a new Gospel, new terms of life and death, a new way to heaven. And is, as much as in us lies, to make things of highest necessity depend not only upon things of no necessity, but that are, in our religion, perfect nullities, not having any place there at all. And thereupon is, in effect, to say, If you will not take Christianity with these additions of ours, you shall not be Christians, you shall have no Christian ordinances, no Christian worship; we will, as far as in us is, exclude you heaven itself, and all means of salvation. And upon the same ground upon which they may be excluded one communion by such arbitrary devised measures, they may be excluded another also, and be received no where. And if their measures differ, they all exclude one another; and hence, so many churches, so many Christendoms. If this be sinful, it is a sin of the deepest die. Whereas the Holy Scriptures speak with such severity as we know they do, of the altering of man's landmarks, what may we think of altering God's? And the sin is still the greater, if the things of highest necessity are overlooked in the mean time as trifles, tithing of mint is stood upon, but judgment, faith, mercy, and the love of God passed over, (as Matt. xxiii. 23. Luke xi. 42.) infidels poured in upon the church! wolves and bears under the name of sheep, and the lambs of Christ (which he requires to be fed) thrown out into the wilderness!

3. But if we suppose it a sin, and so heinous a one, how far doth the guilt of it spread! How few among the several sorts and parties of Christians are innocent, if the measures of their several communions were brought under just and severe examination! How few that lay their communions open to visible Christians as such, excluding none of whatsoever denomination, nor receiving any that by Christian rational estimate cannot be judged such!

4. How few that consider this as the provoking cause of Christ's being so much a stranger to the Christian church! And how little is it to be hoped we shall ever see good days till this wasting evil be redressed! or that our glorious Redeemer, who is head of all things to the church, should ever own it by visible favours, should protect, cherish, enlarge it, or make it spread in the world! (and how little it is naturally in any probability of doing so!) or that he should treat it as his, while it is so little itself, and so little one! In the present (most deplorable) state of things, private (that is, carnal) interest is the thing every where designed, by one party, and another. And by wishing the prosperity of the church, or endeavouring it, is only meant seeking the prosperity of our own party. So that there can be no united prayers nor joint endeavous for any truly common good; but what seems desirable to some, is dreaded and deprecated by all the rest. Thus for thirteen or fourteen hundred years hath the church been gradually growing a multiform, mangled, shattered, and most deformed thing; broken and parcelled into nobody knows how many several sorts of communions. The measures whereof how strangely alien have they been from those which were genuine and primitive, i. e. from substantial Christianity, and the things that must concur to make up that. Instead of sound knowledge of the few, clear, and great things of religion, a great many doubtful opinions; the taking one side in a disputed point; the determination of a logical question, understanding, or saying one understands, (whether we do or no,) a metaphysical nicety; and sometimes professing to believe somewhat that Scripture never said, or shows itself never to have meant, and that is most manifestly contrary to all reason and common sense. Instead of reverent, decent, grave worship; affected, scenical, ludicrous formalities, uncouth gesticulations, disgusted countenances, with I know not what empty shows of a forced and feigned devotion; which things also were to serve instead of orderly, unreprovable conversation, of serving God, and of doing good to other men; and to expiate the crimes of a very bad one, to make amends, and atone for the lewdest, the most licentious, and most mischievous practices.

In sum; not only are things most alien from real Christianity added to it, but substituted in the room of it, and preferred before it; yea, and things most destructive of it, indulged and magnified in opposition to it. This is too generally the state of the carnalized Christian church. And never were there more fervent contentions among all sorts, whose notions, opinions, modes, and forms are to be preferred.