Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

first; and drew mine eyes to look aside: but, when I bent them upon the place, and saw the number and the need of the people, together with their hunger and applause, meeting with the circum stances of God's strange conveyance of this offer to me; I saw, that was but as the fowler's feather, to make me stoop: and, contemning that respect of myself, I sincerely acknowledged higher motives of my yielding; and resolved I might not resist.

You are dear to me, as a Charge to a Pastor: if my pains to you have not proved it, suspect me. Yet I leave you. God calls me to a greater work: I must follow him. It were more ease to me, to live secretly hidden in that quiet obscurity, as Saul amongst the stuff, than to be drawn out to the eye of the world; to act so high a part, before a thousand witnesses. In this point, if I seem to neglect you, blame me not: I must neglect and forget myself.

I can but labour, wheresoever I am. God knows how willingly I do that; whether there or here. I shall dig, and delve, and plant, in what ground soever my Master sets me. If he take me to a larger field, complain you not of loss, while the Church may gain.

But, you are my own charge: no wise father neglects his own, in compassion of the greater need of others: yet consider, that even careful parents, when the prince commands, leave their families, and go to warfare.

may

What if God had called me to heaven? would you have grudged my departure? Imagine that I am there, where I shall be; although the case be not to you altogether so hopeless: for, now I hear of you, visit you, renew my holy counsels, and be mutually comforted from you; there, none of these. He, that will once transpose me from earth to heaven, hath now chosen to transpose me from one piece of earth to another: what is here worthy of your sorrow; worthy of complaint? That should be for my own good: this shall be for the good of many. If your experience have taught you, that my labours do promise profit; obtain of yourself to deny yourself so much, as to rejoice that the loss of a few should be the advantage of many souls. Though, why do I speak of loss? I speak that, as your fear, not my own: and your affection causes that fear, rather than the occasion.

The God of the Harvest shall send you a labourer, more able; as careful. That is my prayer, and hope, and shall be my joy. I dare not leave, but in this expectation, this assurance. Whatever become of me, it shall be my greatest comfort to hear you com mend your change; and to see your happy progress in those ways, I have both shewed you, and beaten. So shall we meet in the end, and never part.

EPISTLE X.

WRITTEN TO MR. J. B.

AND

DEDICATED TO MY FATHER MR. J. HALL.

Against the Fear of Death.

You complain, that you fear death: he is no man, that doth not. Besides the pain, nature shrinks at the thought of parting.

If you would learn the remedy, know the cause; for that she is ignorant, and faithless. She would not be cowardly, if she were not foolish. Our fear is from doubt, and our doubt from unbelief: and, whence is our unbelief, but chiefly from ignorance? She knows not what good is elsewhere: she believes not her part in it. Get once true knowledge and true faith, your fear shall vanish alone. Assurance of heavenly things makes us willing to part with earthly he cannot contemn this life, that knows not the other: if you would despise earth therefore, think of heaven if you would have death easy, think of that glorious life that follows it. tainly, if we can endure pain, for health; much more shall we abide a few pangs, for glory.

Think how fondly we fear a vanquished enemy. Lo, Christ hath triumphed over death: he bleedeth and gaspeth under us; and yet we tremble. It is enough to us, that Christ died: neither would he have died, but that we might die with safety and plea

sure.

Think, that death is necessarily annexed to nature. We are, for a time; on condition, that we shall not be we receive life, but upon the terms of redelivery. Necessity makes some things easy; as it usually makes easy things difficult. It is a fond injustice, to embrace the covenant, and shrink at the condition.

Think, there is but one common road to all flesh: there are no bye-paths of any fairer or nearer way; no, not for princes. Even company abateth miseries; and the commonness of an evil makes it less fearful. What worlds of men are gone before us; yea, how many thousands out of one field! How many crowns and sceptres lie piled up at the gates of death, which their owners have left there, as spoils to the conqueror! Have we been at so many graves, and so oft seen ourselves die in our friends; and do we shrink, when our course cometh? Imagine you alone were exempted from the common law of mankind, or were condemned to Methuselah's age; assure yourself death is not now so fearful, as your life would then be wearisome.

Think, not so much what death is, as from whom he comes, and for what. We receive even homely messengers, from great per

sons; not without respect to their masters: and what matters it who he be, so he bring us good news? What news can be better than this, That God sends for you, to take possession of a kingdom? Let them fear death, which know him but as a pursuivant sent from hell; whom their conscience accuses of a life wilfully filthy, and binds over secretly to condemnation, We know whither we are going, and whom we have believed. Let us pass on cheerfully, through these black gates, unto our glory.

Lastly, know that our improvidence only adds terror unto death, Think of death, and you shall not fear it. Do you not see, that even bears and tigers seem not terrible to those, that live with them? How have we seen their keepers sport with them, when the beholders durst scarce trust their chain? Be acquainted with death, though he look grim upon you, at the first, you shall find him, yea, you shall make him a good companion. Familiarity cannot stand with fear.

These are recipes enough. Too much store doth rather over, whelm than satisfy. Take but these, and I dare promise you security,

146

THE SECOND DECADE.

EPISTLE 1.

TO SIR ROBERT DARCY.

The Estate of a True, but Weak Christian.

IF you ask how I fare: sometimes, no man better; and, if the fault were not my own, always.

Not that I can command health, and bid the world smile when I list. How possible is it, for a man to be happy without these ; yea, in spite of them! These things can neither augment nor impair those comforts, that come from above. What use, what sight is there of the stars, when the sun shines? Then only can I find myself happy, when, overlooking these earthly things, I can fetch my joy from heaven.

I tell him that knows it, the contentments, that earth can afford her best favourites, are weak, imperfect, changeable, momentary; and such, as ever end in complaint: we sorrow, that we had them; and, while we have them, we dare not trust them.

Those from above are full and constant. What a heaven do I feel in myself, when, after many traverses of meditation, I find, in my heart, a feeling possession of my God! when I can walk, and converse with the God of Heaven, not without an openness of heart, and familiarity: when my soul hath caught fast and sensible hold of my Saviour; and either pulls him down to itself, or rather lifts up itself to him; and can and dare secretly avouch, I know whom I have believed when I can look upon all this inferior creation, with the eyes of a stranger; and am transported to my home in my thoughts; solacing myself in the view and meditation of my future glory, and that presence of the Saints: when I see wherefore I was made; and my conscience tells me I have done that for which I came; done it, not so as I can boast, but so as it is accepted; while my weaknesses are pardoned, and my acts measured by my desires, and my desires by their sincerity: lastly, when I can find myself, upon holy resolution, made firm and square, fit to entertain all events; the good with moderate regard, the evil with courage and patience, both with thanks ;

strongly settled to good purposes; constant and cheerful in devotion; and, in a word, ready for God, yea full of God.

Sometimes I can be thus; and pity the poor and miserable prosperity of the godless; and laugh at their months of vanity, and sorrow at my own.

But then again (for why should I shame to confess it?) the world thrusts itself betwixt me and heaven; and, by his dark and indigested parts, eclipseth that light which shined to my soul. Now, a senseless dulness overtakes me, and besots me my lust to devotion is little; my joy, none at all: God's face is hid, and I am troubled. Then I begin to compare myself with others, and think, "Are all men thus blockish and earthen? or, am I alone worse than the rest, and singular in my wretchedness?" Now I carry my carcase up and down carelessly; and, as dead bodies are rubbed without heat, I do in vain force upon myself delights, which others laugh at. I endeavour my wonted work, but without a heart. There is nothing is not tedious to me; no, not myself.

Thus I am, till I single myself out alone, to him that alone can revive me. I reason with myself, and confer with him: I chide myself, and entreat him: and, after some spiritual speeches interchanged, I renew my familiarity with him; and he the tokens of his love to me. Lo, then I live again; and applaud myself in this happiness; and wish it might ever continue; and think basely of the world, in comparison of it.

Thus I hold on, rising and falling; neither know, whether I should more praise God for thus much fruition of him, or blame myself for my inconstancy in good; more rejoice, that sometimes I am well, or grieve that I am not so always. I strive, and wish, rather than hope, for better.

This is our warfare: we may not look to triumph always: we must smart sometimes, and complain; and then again rejoice, that we can complain; and grieve, that we can rejoice no more, and that we can grieve no more. Our hope is, If we be patient, we

shall once be constant.

EPISTLE II.

TO SIR EDMUND BACON.

Of the Benefit of Retiredness, and Secrecy.

SUSPECT, if you can, that, because now many cold winds blow betwixt us, my affection can be cooler to you. True love is like a strong stream, which, the further it is from the head, runs with

« ForrigeFortsæt »