clouds of distempering thoughts from my mind, or to remove my backwardness to duties, or advance my thoughts heavenwards, or mortify my affections of a worldly and sinful nature. It is begun on the 10th of May, 1653."

SOLILOQUY I.

Advance thyself now, O my soul, be thou thyself and act a spirit's part. Reflect upon, return into thyself, and see how things go there. Hath God given thee these rational faculties and a self-discoursing power, and shall not these be exercised? Begin to confer with thy own heart, and thou shalt not want matter. Let the method be what it will, so that thou mayest profit thyself and gain advantage over thy spiritual foes. Look within thee and without thee, look below thee and above thee, and if there be not matter of meditation then I shall wonder. But surely if thou art not extremely wanting to thyself, this spiritual exercise will bring a return of full, new, and heartrefreshing supplies. O my soul, let me now stimulate thee to this course, whilst I charge thee not to be sluggish in it. Let not trivial matters interrupt thee, but constantly and conscientiously exercise thyself therein. I solemnly require thee, thou deceitful heart, do not here beguile me, do not plead excuses, do not make delays, but begin in good earnest; it is a business of great concern, and I adjure and command thee by the authority God hath given me over thee, to comply with the duty and come and act thy part. Loiter not in unprofitable formality or a vain offer, like the son that said, "I go, sir, and went not." I charge thee, my depraved and backward heart, in the name of God, and upon thy allegiance to thy dread Sovereign, to deal impartially with thyself, to arraign thyself at the bar of conscience, and to imitate, as much as may be, God's calling sinners to account at the general assizes. Keep back nothing now which shall then be revealed. Fear not to know the worst ; it is better to know it here by thy own voluntary discovery, than to have such things brought up then, as thou wouldst give all the world to be concealed, if it were possible; it must be better to shame thyself here, where thou mayest be restored, than to be ashamed hereafter without remedy. O the benefit thou mayest get by communing with thy own heart! Hereby thou mayest come to know more of its secret wanderings, windings, and iniquitous turnings. Thou mayest take notice of thy progress in thy journey, of the decaying and rising of thy sensual desires, and of the revival of grace. Thou mayest know more of the method of Satan and the mystery of iniquity. Thy

heart may be blessed with suitable dispositions, as thou seest occasion, to mourn when thou dost not find things well and wisely conducted, and to rejoice when thou hast cause. Sure I am, this secret soul-soliloquy will prove a gainful trade, a sweet delicious feast, and a solemn delightful exercise, that will exhilarate thy spirits better than wine. Try this course, O my soul, and observe if it be not good for thee. See if thy graces do not increase by it, the power of thy sins diminish, and thy duties be better discharged. See if thou dost not enjoy more. communion with God, and if others do not observe thy face to shine and thy ways to be more regular, by frequent conversing with God and thyself. By this means thou wilt spend thy days with more solace and delight, and live as in a little corner of heaven. Store up sweet and soul-refreshing comforts against an evil day. Inure thyself to exercise thy graces alone, and if God deprive thee of his saints, thou mayest enjoy the fellowship of God here, and think it no strange thing to remove to his immediate presence at death.

II.

Come, my soul, and let me feel which way thy pulse beats. Is it not heavenwards? and shouldst thou not be heavenlyminded? See what cause thou hast to mind thy God and an eternal state. Canst thou bring to thy recollection no heartraising considerations to elevate thee heavenwards? What sayest thou? Are there no vestiges of divine distinguishing providences left upon thee? Are there no impressions of free grace experienced, fresh within thee? Then thou art much out of frame. Dost thou not find thyself lost in a labyrinth of God's mercies? Dost thou not feel thyself transported by an angelical admiration of God's bounty and compassion, and art thou not plunged into the depths of self-condemning indignation to see thy strange requitals? O that God should do so much for thee, and that thou shouldst do so much against him! as if thou wouldst strive with God, to see whether his loving-kindness or thy rebellion shall have the victory! Who but a churlish Nabal would be so ungrateful a requiter? He hath made thee; doth not that deserve thy homage? He hath kept thee from thy birth to the present moment; doth not that require some dutiful obedience? Ah, but thy Saviour hath died for thee and redeemed thee, without which thou hadst been lost for ever! Doth not that merit a thankful remembrance? He did not think his dearest heart's blood too dear for thee, and wilt thou think thy cordial thoughts too dear for him? Suppose the Lord had cast thee into hell, thou wouldst have roared out under thy pangs, and couldst not forget God's

hand of justice; but now the Lord hath redeemed thee, and bestowed on thee many privileges, why shouldst thou forget his strong arm of mercy? Poor soul, hast thou any thing to mind but thy God? Is there any thing worth thinking of besides thy treasure?

Tell me, O my soul, hast thou not sometimes upon the deliberate comparison of transitory vanities, (gilded over with the fairest gloss of happiness) with the bare naked excellence of soul-refreshing enlargements, which thou hast sometimes enjoyed from God; hast thou not, I say, preferred this latter with its roughness, before the former with its attractions? Hast thou not infinitely preferred the pleasures of grace before the pleasures of the world? and wilt thou now return to the beggarly and weak elements of the world? Wilt thou now go and counteract thy own persuasions by thy practices? Nay, nay, my soul, exchange not gold for glass, leave not the tried substance for the shadow; but come along, I'll lead thee by the hand, and let thee take a glance of what thou canst not fully know because of thy carnality. Or rather, take a full survey of outward sensible favours; ask thy outward man, and it will tell thee, ask thy senses, and they will testify of multitudes of tender mercies. Propound some queries to thyself, and see what answer a well informed, rectified, and sanctified understanding will dictate upon the right discovery of thy present state. But, my soul, beware of the ticklings of pride, arrogance, or vainglory. Poor creature, tell me now what art thou? A creature of God's making, the workmanship of the great and infinite God, the same God that made the holy angels and highest heavens! But what creature art thou? A man; that is a mercy, God might have made thee a brute. But thou art a man, endowed with a living soul capable of felicity; a rational and intelligent man; God might have made thee a fool, an idiot to be scorned, derided and mocked by all! But what sort of man art thou? A Christian, one born within the pale of the visible church! Thou mightest have been born among the rude Indians or savage Turks, and been either a gross idolater, to have adored the creature instead of the Creator, yea, to have worshipped the devil himself; or have lived in a popish country and what hopes can there be of salvation where means are wanting? God hath brought thee up all thy days at the feet of Gamaliel, where light hath shone round thee as in a little Goshen, yea, it hath shone into thee which is best of all! Thou art a Christian, not nominally only but really, I feel persuaded. Here stand gazing up into heaven, not into thyself: it was God's own work, and is marvellous in my eyes! But

what kiud of Christian art thou?

Not of an inferior rank but a

teaching Christian—a minister of the gospel. O what riches of grace are here! For whom hath God done all these observable things? Not for a prince, nor one descended of noble blood, nor for a subtle politician, eminent scholar, critical linguist, acute philosopher, profound mathematician, or learned divine; no, no, the Lord hath not bestowed these mercies on any such accounts; yet God hath made choice of thee, and made use of thee, yea, hath accounted thee faithful to bear his message to a wicked world. O what an infinite ocean of mercy is this! Were there not many thousands in England of more admirable natural abilities and acquired learning, some of whom were not permitted to enter upon these sacred studies, and so are incapable of being employed in the Lord's vineyard. Others are commissioned outwardly and qualified excellently with all external endowments, yet answer not to their call; instead of being faithful labourers they are fruitless loiterers, are wretchedly profane, and the ringleaders in every scene of iniquity, instead of leading their people heavenwards. But I see grace is free, and that alone hath made the difference. Should not God then have all the praise? And how canst thou express his praise more than in a due and diligent minding of thy God, waiting upon him, walking with him, and working for him?

III.

Raise up thyself, O my soul, and aspire in thy desires towards the highest heavens. Mount up like flames of fire with heat and height of zeal and love towards the chief good. What else can content and satisfy thee but thy God? Will creatures do it? O no. Dost thou not behold a vanity and vexatious quality in whatever is presented to thee? The heaven-born soul will overlook inferior objects, and, if it be itself, will trample under foot whatever is under the sun. Was my seraphic soul created for these things below? Can its desires be terminated on inferior objects? Was it shaped of the earth as my body, and must it return to the earth again? No, no, it comes from God, and to God must return or never be content. The misery of hell consists in exclusion from the chief good, and the souls in that land of darkness can never be satisfied. O my soul, where art thou but as in a present hell whilst separated from God? Thou art like little silly birds that wander from their nests, and lose themselves in woods and groves. Art thou not like Noah's dove that could not find a place adapted for a constant residence? or like a little rivulet that is left behind the proud, tempestuous tide, that runs and slides along

the even sands, and cannot rest till it returns again to be swallowed up in the mighty ocean? O my soul, be not thou a willing prisoner, but make trial whilst thy fetters are on thee, to soar aloft on the wings of faith and love; whilst on the stormy deep, put thyself forward towards the haven, and thou shalt find a happy gale of the spirit of grace to drive thee heavenwards. I bid thee not, my soul, make too much haste, or seek to break open the prison door, or pull down the wall, only look with longing expectation from the window God hath opened for thee. If thou art not wanting to thyself, thou mayest look through, by the eye of faith, towards the new Jerusalem which is above; as Daniel once did. When God sees good to set thee at liberty he will come unto thee, as to Peter, and strike off thy bolts, and gently open the gates and let thee out. Till then, labour to enjoy the presence of thy God, and employ thyself in acts of holiness till thou art taken hence and seen

no more.

IV.

What a wretched life do I, poor creature, lead, who am tormented between hope and fear, suspended betwixt heaven and hell, and tortured between two thieves that come to steal my comforts from me-my own corruptions and Satan's temptations. Alas, I am almost weary of my life, my soul is giving up the ghost. O that I could say, "it is finished!" my sins finished, my sorrows finished, my work finished, my woe finished, my life finished; I would bid farewell to all sinful objects, my soul would be free from all corporeal organs, and I would take my leave of all carnal things, those enemies to God and destroyers of my desirable soul-comforts. "O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest," from all molesting cares, and hide myself from my enchanting enemies. Methinks I live as on a field of battle, where I hear the terrible noise of combatants, and clashing of warlike wea pons. Methinks my darling soul stands just at the mouth of a destructive cannon, ready to be shattered to pieces every moment. Ah! how often doth my soul withdraw and leave my God, which makes him hide his face and bend his bow to shoot at me as an enemy; and though sometimes I cast down my arms and cry for mercy, yet I break my covenant with him and cast his laws behind my back. My greatest enemies are within, and these heart-wars and soul-dissentions are my greatest woes; if I were free from them, my soul would be serene and quiet. Methinks my heart is like Abraham's house, that had a Sarah and a Hagar in it, who could not well agree; an Isaac and Ishmacl, who thwarted and contradicted each other. O my soul,