CHAP. III.

Of the great danger and folly of not intending to be as eminent as we can, in the practice of all Christian virtues.

1.ALTHOUGH the goodness of God, and his rich mercy in Christ Jesus, are a sufficient assurance to us, that he will be merciful to our unavoidable weaknesses, that is, to such failings as are the effects of ignorance or surprize; yet we have no reason to expect the same mercy towards those sins which we live in, through a want of intention to avoid them.

For instance, a common swearer, who dies in that guilt, seems to have no title to the divine mercy; because he can no more plead any weakness in his excuse, than the man that hid his talent in the earth, could plead his want of strength to keep it out of the earth.

2. But, if this be right reasoning in the case of a common swearer, that his sin is not to be reckoned a pardonable frailty, because he has no weakness to plead in its excuse: why don’t we as much condemn every other error of life, that has no more weakness to plead in its excuse than common swearing?

For if this be so bad, because it might be avoided, if we did but sincerely intend it, must not all other erroneous ways of life be very guilty, if we live in them, not through weakness and inability, but because we never sincerely intended to avoid them?

For instance, you perhaps have made no progress in the most important Christian virtues, in humility and charity. Now, if your failure is owing to your want of intention of performing them in any true degree, have you not as little to plead for yourself? And are you not as much without all excuse as the common swearer?

3. Why therefore don’t you press these things home upon your conscience? Why do you not think it as dangerous for you to live in such defects as are in your power to amend, as ’tis dangerous for a common swearer to live in the breach of that duty, which it is in his power to observe? Is not the want of a sincere intention, as blameable in one case as another?

You, it may be, are as far from Christian perfection as the common swearer is from keeping the third commandment. Are you not therefore as much condemned by the doctrine of the gospel, as the swearer is by the third commandment?

You perhaps will say, that all people fall short of the perfection of the gospel. But this is nothing to the purpose: for the question is not, whether gospel perfection can be fully attained; but whether you come as near it as a sincere intention, and careful diligence can carry you? Whether you are not in a much lower state than you might be, if you sincerely intended to advance yourself in all Christian virtues?

If your defects in piety, humility, and charity are owing to your want of sincere intention to be as eminent as you can in these virtues, then you leave yourself as much without excuse, as he that lives in the sin of swearing, through the want of a sincere intention to depart from it.

4. The salvation of our souls is set forth in scripture as a thing of difficulty, that requires all our diligence, that is to be worked out with fear and trembling.

We are told, straight is the gate, and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it: that many are called, but few are chosen: and that many will miss of their salvation who seem to have taken some pains to obtain it. Strive to enter in at the straight gate; for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.

*Here our blessed Lord commands us to strive to enter in, because many will fail, who only seek to enter: by which we are plainly taught, that religion is a state of labour and striving, and that many will fail of their salvation; not because they took no pains or care about it, but because they did not take care and pains enough; they only sought, but did not strive to enter in.

Every Christian therefore should as well examine his life by these doctrines, as by the commandments: for these doctrines are as plain marks of our condition as the commandments are.

For if salvation is only given to those who strive for it, then it is as reasonable for me to consider, whether my course of life be a course of striving to obtain it, as to consider whether I am keeping any of the commandments.

5. If my religion is only a formal compliance with those modes of worship that are in fashion where I live, if it costs me no pains or trouble, if it lays me under no rules and restraints, if I have no careful thoughts about it, is it not great weakness to think that I am striving to enter in at the straight gate?

If I am seeking every thing that can delight my senses, spending my time and fortune in pleasures, in diversions, and worldly enjoyments; a stranger to watchings, fastings, prayers, and mortifications, how can it be said, that I am working out my salvation with fear and trembling?

If I use the world and worldly enjoyments, as the generality of people do, and in all ages have done, why should I think that I am amongst those few, who are walking in the narrow way to heaven?

*And yet, if the way is narrow, if none can walk in it but those that strive, is it not as necessary for me to consider, whether the way I am in be narrow enough, or the labour I take to be a sufficient striving, as to consider whether I sufficiently observe the second or third commandment?

6. The measure of our love to God seems in justice to be the measure of our love of every virtue. We are to love and practise it with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength. And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue, we live below our nature, and instead of being able to plead our infirmities, we stand chargeable with wilful negligence.

It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work out our salvation with fear and trembling; because unless our heart and passions are eagerly bent upon the work of our salvation, unless holy fears animate our endeavours, and keep our consciences tender about every part of our duty, constantly examining how we live, and how fit we are to die, we shall in all probability sit down in such a course of life, as will never carry us to the rewards of heaven.

And he that considers, that a just God can only make such allowances as are suitable to his justice, that our works are all to be examined by fire, will find fear and trembling are proper tempers for those that are drawing near to so great a trial.

Now this is not intended to possess people’s minds with a scrupulous anxiety; but to fill them with a just fear of living in the neglect of such virtues as they will want at the day of judgment.

It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of their state, so earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of falling short of happiness, as the great apostle St. Paul was, when he thus wrote to the Philippians.

Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect;—but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. And then he adds, Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded.

But if the apostle thought it necessary for those who were in his state of perfection to be thus minded; thus labouring, pressing, and aspiring after some degrees of holiness, to which they were not then arrived; surely it is much more necessary for us, to be thus minded; thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy life, as we have not yet attained.

7. The best way for any one to know how much he ought to aspire after holiness, is to ask himself, how much he thinks will make him easy at the hour of death.

Now any man that dares put this question to himself, will be forced to answer, that at death, every one will wish, he had been as perfect as human nature can be.

Is not this sufficient to put us, not only upon wishing, but labouring after all that perfection which we shall then lament the want of? Is it not excessive folly to be content with such a course of piety as we already know cannot content us, at a time when we shall so want it, as to have nothing else to comfort us? How can we carry a severer condemnation against ourselves, than to believe, that at the hour of death, we shall want the virtues of the saints, and wish that we had been among the first servants of God, and yet take no methods of arriving at their height of piety, whilst we are alive?

8. Though this is an absurdity that we can pass over, whilst the health of our bodies, the passions of our minds, the noise, and hurry, and pleasures, and business of the world, lead us on with eyes that see not; yet at death, it will appear before us in a dreadful magnitude: it will haunt us like a dismal ghost; and our conscience will never let us take our eyes from it.

We see in worldly matters, what a torment self-condemnation is; and how hardly a man is able to forgive himself, when he has brought himself into any calamity or disgrace, purely by his own folly. The affliction is made doubly tormenting; if he is forced to charge it all upon himself, as his own act and deed, against the reason of things, and contrary to the advice of his friends.

Now by this we may in some degree guess, how terrible that self-condemnation will be, when a man shall find himself in the misery of death, under the severity of a self-condemning conscience; charging all his distress upon his own folly and madness, against the sense and reason of his own mind, against all the doctrines and precepts of religion, and contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings both of God and man.

9. *Penitens was a busy, notable tradesman, and very prosperous in his dealings, but died in the thirty-fifth year of his age.

A little before his death, when the doctors had given him over, some of his neighbours came to see him; at which time he spoke thus to them.

I see, my friends, the tender concern you have for me, by the grief that appears in your countenances; and I know the thoughts that you have about me. You think how melancholy a case it is, to see so young a man, and in such flourishing business, delivered up to death. And perhaps, had I visited any of you in my condition, I should have had the same thoughts of you.

But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more like your thoughts, than my condition is like yours.

It is no trouble to me now to think, that I am to die young, or before I have raised an estate.

These things are now sunk into such mere nothings, that I have no name little enough to call them by. For if in a few days, or hours, I am to leave this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find myself either for ever happy in the favour of God, or eternally separated from all light and peace. Can any words sufficiently express the littleness of every thing else?

Is there any dream like the dream of life, which amuses us with the disregard of these things? Is there any folly like the folly of our manly state, which is too wise and busy to be at leisure for these reflections?

10. When we consider death as a misery, we only think of it as a miserable separation from the enjoyments of this life. We seldom mourn over an old man that dies rich; but we lament the young, that are taken away in the progress of their fortune. You yourselves look upon me with pity, not that I am going unprepared to meet the Judge of quick and dead, but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in the flower of my life.

This is the wisdom of our manly thoughts: And yet what folly of the silliest children is so great as this?

For what is there miserable in death, but the consequences of it? When a man is dead, what does any thing signify to him, but the state he is then in?

Our poor friend Lepidus died, you know, as he was dressing himself for a feast. Do you think it is now part of his trouble, that he did not live till that entertainment was over? Feasts, and business, and pleasures, and enjoyments, seem great things to us, whilst we think of nothing else; but as soon as we add death to them, they all sink into an equal littleness; and the soul, that is separated from the body, no more laments the loss of business, than the losing of a feast.

If I am now going into the joys of God, could there be any reason to grieve, that this happened to me before I was forty years of age? Could it be a sad thing to go to heaven, before I had made a few more bargains, or stood a little longer behind a counter?

And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could there be any reason to be content, that this did not happen to me till I was old, and full of riches? If good angels were ready to receive my soul, could it be any grief to me, that I was dying upon a poor bed in a garret?

And if God has delivered me up to evil spirits, to be dragged by them to places of torment, could it be any comfort to me, that they found me upon a bed of state?

11. When you are as near death as I am, you will know, that all the different states of life, whether of youth or age, riches or poverty, greatness or meanness, signify no more to you, than whether you die in a poor or stately apartment.

The greatness of those things which follow death, makes all that go before it sink into nothing.

Now that everlasting happiness or misery is come so near, all the enjoyments and prosperities of life seem as vain and insignificant, and to have no more to do with my happiness than the cloaths I wore before I could speak.

But, my friends, how am I surprized, that I have not always had these thoughts? For what is there in the terrors of death, in the vanities of life, or the necessities of piety, but what I might have as easily and fully seen in any part of my life?

What a strange thing is it, that a little health, or the poor business of a shop, should keep us so senseless of these great things that are coming so fast upon us!

12. Just as you came into my chamber, I was thinking with myself, what numbers of souls there are now in the world, in my condition at this very time, surprized with a summons to the other world; some taken from their shops and farms, others from their sports and pleasures, these at suits at law, those at gaming-tables, some on the road, others at their own fire-sides, and all seized at an hour when they thought not of it; frighted at the approach of death, confounded at the vanity of all their labours, designs and projects, astonished at the folly of their past lives, and not knowing which way to turn their thoughts, to find any comfort; their consciences flying in their faces, bringing all their sins to remembrance, presenting them with the sight of the angry Judge, the worm that never dies, the fire that is never quenched, the gates of hell, the powers of darkness, and the bitter pains of eternal death.

Oh my friends! bless God that you are not of this number, that you have time and strength so to employ yourselves, as may bring you peace at the last.

13. You, perhaps when you consider that I have lived free from scandal and debauchery, and in the communion of the church, wonder to see me so full of remorse and self-condemnation at the approach of death.

It is true, I have lived in the communion of the church, and frequented its service on Sundays, when I was not too idle, or otherwise disposed of by my business and pleasures: but then, my conformity to the public worship has been rather a thing of course, than from any real intention of glorifying God; had it been so, I had been more devout when there, and more fearful of ever neglecting it.

14. But the thing that now surprizes me above all wonders, is this, that I never had so much as a general intention of living up to the piety of the gospel. This never so much as entered into my heart. I never once in my life considered, whether my way of life was such as would procure me the mercy of God at this hour.

How easy a thing would salvation be, if it could fall into my careless hands, who have never had so much serious thought ♦about it, as about any one common bargain that I have made?

Do you think any thing can astonish and confound a dying man like this? What pain do you think a man must feel, when his conscience lays all this folly to his charge, when it shews him how regular, exact, and wise he has been in small matters, that are passed away like a dream, and how stupid and senseless he has lived without any reflection, in things of such eternal moment, as no heart can sufficiently conceive them?

Oh my friends! a careless life, unconcerned and inattentive to the duties of religion, is so without all excuse, so unworthy of the mercy of God, such a shame to the sense and reason of our minds, that I can hardly conceive a greater punishment, than for a man to be thrown into the state that I am in, to reflect upon it.

Penitens was here going on, but had his mouth stopped by a convulsion, which never suffered him to speak any more. He lay convulsed for about twelve hours, and then gave up the ghost.