lency! Well saith Solomon, "Much reading is a weariness to the flesh, and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." How many hundred studious days and weeks, and how many hard and tearing thoughts, hath my little, my very little knowledge, cost me: and how much infirmity and painfulness to my flesh, increase of painful diseases, and loss of bodily ease and health! How much pleasure to myself of other kinds, and how much acceptance with men have I lost by it, which I might easily have had in a more conversant and plausible way of life! And when all is done, if I reach to know any more than others of my place and order, I must differ so much (usually) from them; and if I manifest not that difference, but keep all that knowledge to myself, I sin against conscience and nature itself. The love of man and the love of truth oblige me to be soberly communicative. Were I so indifferent to truth and knowledge as easily to forbear their propagation, I must also be so indifferent to them as not to think them worth so dear a price as they have cost me (though they are the free gifts of God).

But if I obey nature and conscience in communicating that knowledge which containeth my difference aforesaid, the Dissenters too often take themselves disparaged by it, how peaceably soever I manage it; and as bad men take the piety of the godly to be an accusation of their impiety, so many teachers take themselves to be accused of ignorance by such as condemn their errors by the light of truth; and if you meddle not with any person, yet take they their opinions to be so much their interest, as that all that is said against them they take as said against themselves. And then, alas! what envyings, what whispering disparagements, and what backbitings, if not malicious slanders and underminings, do we meet with from the carnal clergy! And O that it were all from them alone! and that among the zealous and suffering party of faithful preachers there were not much of such iniquity, and that none of them preached Christ in strife and envy! It is sad that error should find so much shelter under the selfishness and pride of pious men, and that the friends of truth should be tempted to reject and abuse so much of it in their ignorance as they do: but the matter of fact is too evident to be hid.

2. BAXTER'S OPINIONS ON THE COVENANT AND OCCASIONAL CONFORMITY.—(FROM HIS FAREWELL SERMON INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN PREACHED AT KIDDERMINSTER BEFORE BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY, BUT FORBIDDEN.)

I am glad that you were kept from taking the solemn league and covenant, and the engagement, and all consent to the change of the constituted government of this kingdom. I took the covenant myself, of which I repent, and I will tell you why: I never gave it but to one man (that I remember), and he professed himself to be a Papist physician newly turned Protestant, and he came to me to

OPINION OF THE COVENANT, ETC.

187

give it him: I was persuaded that he took it in false dissimulation, and it troubled me to think what it was to draw multitudes of men by carnal interest so falsely to take it and I kept it and the engagement from being taken in your town and county. At first it was not imposed, but taken by volunteers; but after that it was made a test of such as were to be trusted or accepted. Besides the illegality, there are two things that cause me to be against it.

First, That men should make a mere dividing engine and pretend it a means of unity: we all knew at that time when it was imposed, that a great part, if not the greatest, of church and kingdom were of another mind; and that as learned and worthy men were for prelacy, as most the world had (such as Usher, Morton, Hall, Davenant, Brownrig, &c.) And to make our terms of union to be such as should exclude so many and such men, was but to imitate those church dividers and persecutors, who in many countries, and ages have still made their own impositions the engines of division by pretence of union. And it seemeth to accuse Christ, as if He had not sufficiently made us terms of concord, but we must devise our own forms as necessary thereto.

Second, And it was an imposing on the Providence of God, to tie ourselves by vows to that as unchangeable, which we knew not but God might after change, as if we had been the masters of his Providence. No man then knew but that God might so alter many circumstances, as might make some things sins that were then taken for duty; and some things to be duty, which then passed for sin. And when such changes come, we that should have been content with God's obligations, do find ourselves ensnared in our own rash

Vows.

Maintain union and communion with all true Christians on earth; and therefore, hold to Catholic principles of mere Christianity, without which you must needs crumble into sects. Love Christians as Christians, but the best most; locally separate from none, as accusing of them, further than they separate from Christ, or deny you their communion, unless you will sin. The zeal of a sect as such is partial, turbulent, hurtful to Dissenters, and maketh men as thorns and thistles; but the zeal of Christianity, as such, is pure and peaceable, full of mercy and good fruits, mellow and sweet, and inclineth to the good of all. If God give you a faithful or a tolerable public minister, be thankful to God, and love, honour, and encourage him, and let not the imperfections of the Common Prayer make you separate from his communion; prejudice will make all modes or worship different from that which we prefer, to seem some heinous, sinful crime; but humble Christians are most careful about the frame of their own hearts, and conscious of so much faultiness in themselves, and all their service of God, that they are not apt to accuse and aggravate the failings of others, especially in matters which God has left to our own determination. Whether we shall pray with a book or without, in divers short prayers, or one long one; whether the people shall sing God's praise in tunes, or speak

it in prose, is left to be determined by the general rules of concord, order, and edification. Yet do not withdraw from the communion of soberly, godly Nonconformists, though falsely called schismatics by others.

3. THE JOY OF THE SAINTS' REST.-(" SAINTS' REST," CHAP. XVI.)

Rest! how sweet the sound! It is melody to my ears! It lies as a reviving cordial at my heart, and from thence sends forth lively spirits which beat through all the pulses of my soul! Rest, not as the stone that rests on the earth, nor as this flesh shall rest in the grave, nor such a rest as the carnal world desires. O blessed rest! when we rest not day and night saying, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty:" when we shall rest from sin, but not from worship; from suffering and sorrow, but not from joy! O blessed day! when I shall rest with God! when I shall rest in the bosom of my Lord! when my perfect soul and body shall together perfectly enjoy the most perfect God! when God, who is love itself, shall perfectly love me, and rest in this love to me, as I shall rest in my love to Him; and rejoice over me with joy, and joy over me with singing, as I shall rejoice in Him!

This is that joy which was procured by sorrow, that crown which was procured by the cross. My Lord wept that now my tears might be wiped away; He bled that I might now rejoice; He was forsaken that I might not now be forsook; He then died that I might now live. O free mercy, that can exalt so vile a wretch! Free to me, though dear to Christ: free grace that hath chosen me, when thousands were forsaken. This is not like our cottages of clay, our prisons, our earthly dwellings. This voice of joy is not like our old complaints, our impatient groans and sighs; nor this melodious praise like the scoffs and revilings, or the oaths and curses, which we heard on earth. This body is not like that we had, nor this soul like the soul we had, nor this life like the life we lived. We have changed our place and state, our clothes and thoughts, our looks, language, and company. Before, a saint was weak and despised; but now, how happy and glorious a thing is a saint! Where is now their body of sin, which wearied themselves and those about them? Where are now our different judgments, reproachful names, divided spirits, exasperated passions, strange looks, uncharitable censures? Now are all of one judgment, of one name, of one heart, house, and glory. O sweet reconciliation! happy union! Now the gospel shall no more be dishonoured through our folly. No more, my soul, shalt thou lament the sufferings of the saints, or the church's ruins, or mourn thy suffering friends, nor weep over their dying beds or their graves. Thou shalt never suffer thy old temptations from Satan, the world, or thy own flesh. Thy pains and sickness are all cured; thy body shall no more burden thee with weakness and weariness; thy aching head and heart, thy hunger and thirst, thy sleep and labour, are all gone.

ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON.

189

O what a mighty change is this! From the dunghill to the throne! From persecuting sinners to praising saints! From a vile body to this which shines as the brightness of the firmament! From a sense of God's displeasure to the perfect enjoyment of Him in love! From all my fearful thoughts of death to this joyful life! Blessed change! Farewell sin and sorrow for ever; farewell my rocky, proud, unbelieving heart; my worldly, sensual, carnal heart; and welcome my most holy, heavenly nature. Farewell repentance, faith, and hope; and welcome love, and joy, and praise. I shall now have my harvest without ploughing or sowing: my joy without a preacher or a promise: even all from the face of God Himself. Whatever mixture is in the streams, there is nothing but pure joy in the fountain. Here shall I be encircled with eternity, and ever live, and ever, ever praise the Lord. My face will not wrinkle, nor my hair be gray: for this corruptible shall have put on incorruption; and this mortal, immortality; and death shall be swallowed up in victory. O death where is now thy sting? O grave where is thy victory? The date of my lease will no more expire, nor shall I trouble myself with thoughts of death, nor lose my joys through fear of losing them. When millions of ages are past, my glory is but beginning; and when millions more are past, it is no nearer ending. Every day is all noon, every month is harvest, every year is a jubilee, every age is a full manhood, and all this is one eternity. Ŏ blessed eternity! the glory of my glory, the perfection of my perfection.

XXI. ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON.

JOHN TILLOTSON was born at Sowerby, near Halifax, in 1630. His father was a Puritan, and trained up his son in the most rigid doctrines of Calvinism; but during his residence at Cambridge, the views of Tillotson were gradually relaxed from the uncompromising rigour of his early education, and at the Restoration he conformed, and joined the Established Church. He early attracted attention by his powers as a pulpit orator, which induced the Society of Lincoln's Inn to elect him as their preacher. Church promotion followed in due course; he was appointed in 1670 Prebendary of Canterbury, and two years afterwards became Dean of the same cathedral; he was also Chaplain to Charles II., although the zeal with which on all occasions he declaimed against Popery was by no means acceptable to that monarch, and was very offensive to his brother. He afterwards became Dean of St Paul's, and finally, after the Revolution, on Sancroft's refusing to take the oaths to the new government, Tillotson was advanced to the Primacy, which he held till his death in 1694. He left behind him a large collection of sermons, which were printed in ten volumes, and long enjoyed, as they well deserved, a most extensive popularity, although they are now sinking before the merits of Taylor and Hall. Few sermons in the language are entitled to more praise than those

of Tillotson; they do not, indeed, contain any passages rich in poetic imagery or quaint apophthegms, and his style is sometimes languid and clumsy, yet he abounds in good sense, and sound practical admonitions; his language is always clear, often forcible and precise in a high degree, and his manner is earnest, unaffected, and impressive.

1. IMPRUDENCE OF ATHEISM.

Atheism is imprudent, because it is unsafe in the issue. The atheist contends against the religious man that there is no God; but upon strange inequality and odds, for he ventures his eternal interest; whereas the religious man ventures only the loss of his lusts, which it is much better for him to be without, or at the utmost of some temporal convenience; and all this while is inwardly more contented and happy, and usually more healthful, and perhaps meets with more respect, and faithfuller friends, and lives in a more secure and flourishing condition, and more free from the evils and punishments of this world, than the atheistical person does; however, it is not much that he ventures; and after this life, if there be no God, is as well as he; but if there be a God, is infinitely better, even as much as unspeakable and eternal happiness is better than extreme and endless misery. So that, if the arguments for and against a God were equal, and it were an even question whether there were one or not, yet the hazard and danger are so infinitely unequal, that in point of prudence and interest every man were obliged to incline to the affirmative; and whatever doubts he might have about it, to choose the safest side of the question, and to make that the principle to live by. For he that acts wisely, and is a thoroughly prudent man, will be provided against all events, and will take care to secure the main chance, whatever happens; but the atheist, in case things should fall out contrary to his belief and expectation, hath made no provision for this case. If contrary to his confidence, it should prove in the issue that there is a God, the man is lost and undone for ever. If the atheist, when he dies, should find that his soul remains after his body, and has only quitted its lodging, how will this man be amazed and blanked, when, contrary to his expectation, he shall find himself in a new and strange place, amidst a world of spirits, entered upon an everlasting and unchangeable state! How sadly will the man be disappointed when he finds all things otherwise than he had stated and determined them in this world! When he comes to appear before that God whom he hath denied, and against whom he hath spoken as despiteful things as he could, who can imagine the pale and guilty looks of this man, and how he will shiver and tremble for the fear of the Lord, and for the glory of His Majesty? How will he be surprised, with terrors on every side, to find himself thus unexpectedly and irrecoverably plunged into a state of ruin and desperation! And thus things may happen for all this man's confidence now. For our belief or disbelief of a thing does not alter the nature of the thing.