§ 1. The reader's attention excited to the following example of meditation.
§ 2. "The excellencies of heavenly rest. § 3. Its nearness,
§ 4. Dreadful to sinners § 5. And joyful to saints; § 6. Its dear purchase;
§ 7. Its difference from earth. § 8. The heart pleaded with.
§ 9. Unbelief banished. § 10. A careless world pitied. § 11-13.
Heavenly rest the object of love, § 14-21. And joy. § 22. The
heart's backwardness to heavenly joy lamented. § 23-27. Heavenly
rest the object of desire." § 28. Such meditations as this urged
upon the reader: § 29. The mischief of neglecting it: § 30. The
happiness of pursuing it. § 31. The Author's concluding prayer for
the success of his work.
§ 1. And
now reader, according to the above directions,
make conscience of daily exercising
thy graces in meditation, as well as prayer: Retire
into some secret place, at a time the most convenient to
thyself, and laying aside all worldly thoughts, with all
possible seriousness and reverence, look up toward heaven,
remember there is thine everlasting rest, study its
excellency and reality, and rise from sense to faith, by
comparing heavenly with earthly joys: Then mix ejaculations
with thy soliloquies; till having pleaded the case
reverently with God, and seriously with thy own heart,
thou hast pleaded thyself from a clod to a flame, from a
forgetful sinner, and a lover of the world, to an ardent
lover of God, from a fearful coward, to a resolved Christian,
from an unfruitful sadness, to a joyful life: In a
word, till thou hast pleaded thy heart from earth to
heaven, from conversing below to walking with God;
and till thou canst lay thy heart to rest, as in the bosom
of Christ, by some such meditation of thy everlasting rest
as is here added for thy assistance.
§ 2. "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 the 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 I shall rest in knowing, loving, rejoicing, and
praising! 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 his 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!
§ 3. "How near is that most blessed, joyful day! It
comes apace. He that shall come, will come, and will
not tarry. Though my Lord seems to delay his coming,
yet a little while and he will be here. What is a
few hundred years, when they are over? How surely will
his sign appear? How suddenly will he seize upon the
careless world, even as the lightning cometh out of the
east, and shineth unto the west? He who is gone hence
shall so come. Methinks I hear his trumpet sound! Methinks
I see him coming with clouds; with his attending
angels in majesty and glory!
§ 4. "O secure sinners! What now will you do?
Where will you hide yourselves? What shall cover you?
mountains are gone; the heavens and the earth, which
were, are passed away; the devouring fire hath consumed
all, except yourselves, who must be the fuel for ever.
O that all could consume as soon as the earth; and melt
away as did the heavens! Ah, these wishes are now but
vain! The Lamb himself would have been your friend;
he would have loved you, and ruled you, and now have
saved you; but you would not then, and now it is too
late. Never cry Lord, Lord; too late, too late, man.
Why dost thou look about? Can any save thee? Whither
dost thou run? Can any hide thee? O wretch, that
hast brought thyself to this!
§ 5. "Now, blessed saints, that have believed and
obeyed! This is the end of faith and patience. This is it
for which you prayed and waited. Do you now repent
your sufferings and sorrows, your self-denying and holy
walking? Are your tears of repentance now bitter or
sweet! See how the Judge smiles upon you; there is love
in his looks; the titles of Redeemer, Husband, Head,
are written in his amiable, shining face. Hark, he calls
you, he bids you stand here on his right-hand; fear not,
for there he sets his sheep. O joyful sentence! Come,
ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared
for you from the foundation of the world. He takes
you by the hand, the door is open, the kingdom is his,
and therefore yours; there is your place before his
throne; the father receives you as the spouse of his Son,
and bids you welcome to the crown of glory. Ever so
unworthy, you must be crowned. This was the project
of free redeeming grace, the purpose of eternal love. O
blessed grace! O blessed love! O how love and joy will
rise! but I cannot express it, I cannot conceive it.
§ 6. "This is that joy which was produced 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!
When my companions in sin must burn in hell, I must
here rejoice in rest! Here must I live with all these
saints! O comfortable meeting of my old acquaintance,
with whom I prayed, and wept and suffered, and spoke
often of this day and place! I see the grave could not
detain you; the same love hath redeemed and saved you
also.
§ 7. "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; so proud and peevish, we could often scarce
discern his graces: but now how 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 we 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 dishonored
through our folly. No more, my soul, shalt thou
lament the sufferings of the saints, or the church's ruins,
nor 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 sicknesses 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 labor, are all gone. 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 doubts and
fears, to this possession, which puts me out of doubt!
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
now 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 grey; 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 passed, my glory is but beginning;
and when millions more are passed, it is no
nearer ending. Every day is all noon, every month is
harvest, every year is a jubilee, even age is full manhood,
and all this is one eternity. O blessed eternity!
The glory of my glory! the perfection of my perfection!
§ 8. "Ah drowsy, earthly heart! How coldly dost
thou think of this reviving day? Hadst thou rather sit
down in dirt, than walk in the palace of God? Art thou
now remembering thy worldly business, or thinking of
thy lusts, earthly delights and merry company? Is it
better to be here, than above with God? Is the company
better? Are the pleasures greater? Come away; make
no excuse, nor delay; God commands, and I command
thee; gird up thy loins; ascend the mount; look about
thee with faith and seriousness. Look not back upon
the way of the wilderness; except it be to compare the
kingdom with that howling desert, more sensibly to
perceive the wide difference. Yonder is thy Father's
glory; yonder, O my soul! must thou remove, when
thou departest from this body; and when the power of
thy Lord hath raised it again, and joined thee to it,
yonder must thou live with God for ever. There is the
glorious new Jerusalem, the gates of pearl, the foundations
of pearl, the streets and pavement of transparent
gold. That sun, which lighteth all this world, will be
useless there; even thyself shall be as bright as yonder
shining sun; God will be the sun, and Christ the light,
and in his light shalt thou have light.
§ 9. "O my soul! dost thou stagger at the promise
of God through unbelief? I much suspect thee, didst
thou believe indeed thou wouldst be more affected with
it. Is it not under the hand, and seal, and oath of God?
Can God lie? Can he that is truth itself be false? What
need hath God to flatter or deceive thee? Why should
he promise thee more than he will perform? Dare not to
charge the wise, almighty, faithful God with this. How
many of the promises have been performed to thee in
thy conversion? Would God so powerfully concur with
a feigned word? O wretched heart of unbelief? Hath
God made thee a promise of rest, and wilt thou come
short of it? Thine eyes, thy ears, and all thy senses, may
prove delusions, sooner than a promise of God can
delude thee. Thou mayest be surer of that which is
written in the word, than if thou see it with thine eyes,
or feel it with thine hands. Art thou sure thou art
alive, or that this is earth thou standest on, or that thine
eyes see the sun? As sure is all this glory to the saints;
as sure shall I be higher than yonder stars, and live for
ever in the holy city, and joyfully sound forth the
praise of my Redeemer; if I be not shut out by this evil
heart of unbelief, causing me to depart from the living
God.
§ 10. "And is this rest so sweet, and so sure? Then
what means the careless world? Know they what they
neglect? Did they ever hear of it, or are they yet asleep,
or are they dead? Do they certainly know that the
crown is before them, while they thus sit still or follow
trifles? Undoubtedly they are beside themselves, to
mind so much their provision by the way, when they
are hasting so fast to another world, and their eternal
happiness lies at stake. Were there left one spark of
reason, they would never sell their rest for toil, nor
their glory for worldly vanities, nor venture heaven for
sinful pleasure. Poor men! O that you would once
consider what you hazard, and then you would scorn
these tempting baits! Blessed for ever be that love, which
hath rescued me from this bewitching darkness!
§ 11. "Draw yet nearer, O my soul! with thy most
fervent love. Here is matter for it to work upon, something
worth thy loving. O see what beauty presents itself!
Is not all the beauty in the world united here? Is
not all other beauty but deformity? Dost thou now
need to be persuaded to love? Here is a feast for thine
eyes, and all the powers of thy soul; dost thou need entreaties
to feed upon it? Canst thou love a little shining
earth, a walking piece of clay? And canst thou not love
that God, that Christ, that glory, which is so truly and
unmeasurably lovely? Thou canst love thy friend, because
he loves thee; and is the love of a friend like the
love of Christ? Their weeping or bleeding for thee, do
not ease thee, nor stay the course of thy tears or blood:
But the tears and blood that fell from thy Lord, have a
sovereign healing virtue. O my soul! if love deserves,
and should beget love, what incomprehensible love is here
before thee? Pour out all the store of thy affections here,
and all is too little. O that it were more; O that it were
many thousand times more! Let him be first served, that
served thee first. Let him have the first-born, and
strength of thy soul! who parted with strength and life
in love for thee. O my soul! Dost thou love for excellency?
Yonder is the region of light; this is a land of
darkness. Yonder twinkling stars, that shining moon,
and radiant sun, are all but lanthorns hung out of thy
Father's house, to light thee while thou walkest in this
dark world: But how little dost thou know the glory
and blessedness that is within?—Dost thou love for suitableness?
What person more suitable than Christ? His
godhead and humanity, his fulness and freeness, his
willingness and constancy, all proclaim him thy suitable
friend. What state more suitable to thy misery,
than mercy? Or to thy sin and pollution, than honor
and perfection? What place more suitable to thee than
heaven? Does this world agree with thy desires; hast
thou not a sufficient trial of it?—Or dost thou love for
interest and near relation? Where hast thou better interest
than in heaven, or nearer relation than there?
§ 12. "Dost thou love for acquaintance and familiarity?
Though thine eyes have never seen thy Lord, yet
thou hast heard his voice, received his benefits, and lived
in his bosom; He taught thee to know thyself and him;
he opened thee that first window through which thou
sawest into heaven. Hast thou forgotten since thy heart
was careless, and he awakened it; hard, and he softened
it; stubborn, and he made it yield; at peace, and he
troubled it; whole, and he broke it; and broken, till he
healed it again? Hast thou forgotten the times when he
found thee in tears; when he heard thy secret sighs and
groans, and left all to come and comfort thee; when he
took thee, as it were, in his arms, and asked thee, poor
soul, what ails thee? Dost thou weep, when I have wept
so much? Be of good cheer; thy wounds are saving, and
not deadly; It is I have made them, who mean thee no
hurt; though I let out thy blood, I will not let out thy
life." I remember his voice. How gently did he take
me up? How carefully did he dress my wounds? Methinks
I hear him still saying to me, "poor sinner,
though thou hast dealt unkindly with me, and cast me off;
yet I will not do so by thee. Though thou hast set light
by me and all my mercies, yet they and myself are all
thine. What wouldst thou have that I can give thee?
And what dost thou want that I cannot give thee? If any
thing I have will pleasure thee, thou shalt have it.
Wouldst thou have pardon? I freely forgive thee all thy
debt. Wouldst thou have grace and peace? Thou shalt
have them both. Wouldst thou have myself? Behold I
am thine, thy Friend, thy Lord, thy Brother, Husband,
and Head. Wouldst thou have the Father? I will bring
thee to him, and thou shalt have him, in and by me."
These were my Lord's reviving words. After all, when
I was doubtful of his love, methinks I yet remember his
overcoming arguments. "Have I done so much, sinner,
to testify my love, and yet dost thou doubt? Have I offered
thee myself and love so long and yet dost thou question
my willingness to be thine? At what dearer rate
should I tell thee that I love thee? Wilt thou not believe
my bitter passion proceeded from love? Have I
made myself in the gospel a lion to thine enemies, and a
lamb to thee, and dost thou overlook my lamb-like nature?
Had I been willing to let thee perish, what need I
have done and suffered so much? What need I follow
thee with such patience and importunity? Why dost
thou tell me of thy wants; have I not enough for me
and thee? Or of thy unworthiness; for if thou wast
thyself worthy, what shouldst thou do with my worthiness?
Did I ever invite, or save, the worthy and the
righteous; or is there any such upon earth? Hast
thou nothing; art thou lost and miserable, helpless and
forlorn? Dost thou believe I am an all-sufficient Savior,
and wouldst thou have me? Lo, I am thine, take me;
if thou art willing, I am; and neither sin, nor Satan, shall
break the match." These, O these, were the blessed
words which his Spirit from his gospel spoke unto me,
till he made me cast myself at his feet, and cry out, "My
Savior, and my Lord, thou hast broke, thou hast revived
my heart; thou hast overcome, thou hast won my heart;
take it, it is thine; if such a heart can please thee, take
it; if it cannot, make it such as thou wouldst have it."
Thus, O my soul! Mayest thou remember the sweet familiarity
thou hast had with Christ; therefore, if acquaintance
will cause affection, let out thy heart unto
him. It is he hath stood by thy bed of sickness, hath
eased thy pains, refreshed thy weariness, and removed thy
fears. He hath been always ready, when thou hast earnestly
sought him? hath met thee in public and private;
hath been found of thee in the congregation, in thy
house, in thy closet, in the field, in thy waking nights,
in thy deepest dangers.
§ 13. "If bounty and compassion be an attractive of
love, how unmeasurably then am I bound to love him?
All the mercies that have filled up my life, all the
places that ever I abode in, all the societies and persons
I have been conversant with, all my employments
and relations, every condition I have been in, and every
change I have passed through, all tell me, that the
fountain is overflowing goodness. Lord what a sum
of Love am I indebted to thee? And how does my
debt continually increase? How should I love again
for so much love? But shall I dare to think of requiting
thee, or of recompensing all thy love with mine?
Will my mite requite thee for thy golden mines; my
seldom wishes, for thy constant bounty, mine which is
nothing, or not mine, for thine which is infinite and
thine own? Shall I dare to contend in love with thee?
or set my borrowed languid spark against the Sun of
love? Can I love as high, as deep, as broad, as long,
as Love itself; as much as he that made me, and that
made me love, and gave me all that little which I have?
As I cannot match thee in the works of power, nor
make, nor preserve, nor rule the worlds; no more can
I match thee in love. No, Lord, I yield; I am overcome.
O blessed conquest! Go on victoriously, and
still prevail, and triumph in thy love. The captive of
love shall proclaim thy victory! when thou leadest
me in triumph from earth to heaven, from death to life,
from the tribunal to the throne; myself, and all that
see it, shall acknowledge thou hast prevailed, and all
shall say, behold how he loved him! Yet let me love in
subjection to thy love; as thy redeemed captive, though
not thy peer. Shall I not love at all, because I cannot
reach thy measure? O that I could feelingly say,
I love thee, even as I love my friend, and myself!
Though I cannot say, as the Apostle, Thou knowest
that I love thee; yet I can say, Lord, thou knowest
that I would love thee; I am angry with my heart,
that it doth not love thee; I chide it, yet it doth not
mend; I reason with it, and would fain persuade it, yet
I do not perceive it stir; I rub and chafe it in the use of
thy ordinances, and yet I feel it not warm within me.
Unworthy soul! Is not thine eye now upon the only
lovely object? Art thou not beholding the ravishing
glory of the saints? And dost thou not love? Art thou
not a rational soul, and should not reason tell thee, that
earth is a dungeon to the celestial glory? Art thou not
thyself a spirit, and shouldst thou not love God, who is
a spirit, and the Father of spirits? Why dost thou
love so much thy perishing clay, and love no more the
heavenly glory? Shalt thou love when thou comest there;
when the Lord shall take thy carcase from the grave,
and make thee shine as the sun in glory for ever and
ever; shalt thou then love, or shalt thou not? Is not the
place a meeting of lovers? Is not the life a state of love?
Is it not the great marriage day of the Lamb? Is not the
employment there the work of love, where the souls with
Christ take their fill? O then, my soul, begin it here!
Be sick of love now, that thou mayest be well with love
there. Keep thyself now in the love of God; and let
neither life, nor death, nor any thing separate thee
from it; and thou shalt be kept in the fulness of love for
ever, and nothing shall embitter or abate thy pleasure;
for the Lord hath prepared a city of love, a place for
communicating love to his chosen, and they that love his
name shall dwell therein.
§ 14. "Awake then, O my drowsy soul! To sleep
under the light of grace is unreasonable, much more in
the approach of the light of glory. Come forth, my
dull congealed spirit, thy Lord bids thee rejoice and
again rejoice. Thou hast lain long enough in thy prison
of flesh, where Satan hath been thy jailor, cares have
been thy irons, fears thy scourges, and thy food the
bread and water of affliction: where sorrows have been
thy lodging, and thy sins and foes have made the bed,
and an unbelieving heart hath been the gates and bars
that have kept thee in: The angel of the covenant now
calls thee, and strikes thee, and bids thee, arise and follow
him. Up, O my soul! and cheerfully obey, and thy
bolts and bars shall all fly open; follow the Lamb whithersoever
he goeth. Shouldst thou fear to follow such a
guide? Can the sun lead thee to a state of darkness?
Will he lead thee to death, who died to save thee from
it? Follow him, and he will shew thee the paradise of
God; He will give thee a sight of the New Jerusalem,
and a taste of the tree of life. Come forth, my drooping
soul, and lay aside thy winter-dress; let it be seen by
thy garments of joy and praise, that the spring is come,
and as thou now seest thy comforts green; thou shalt
shortly see them white and ripe for harvest, and then
thou shalt be called to reap, and gather, and take possession.
Should I suspend and delay my joys till then?
Should not the joys of the spring go before the joys of
harvest? Is title nothing before possession? Is the heir
in no better a state than a slave? My Lord hath taught
me to rejoice in hope of his glory; and how to see it
through the bars of a prison; for when I am persecuted
for righteousness' sake, he commands me to rejoice,
and be exceeding glad, because my reward in heaven is
great. I know he would have my joys exceed my sorrows;
and as much as he delights in the humble and contrite
he yet more delights in the soul that delights in him.
Hath my Lord spread me a table in this wilderness, and
furnished it with the promises of everlasting glory, and
set before me angels' food? Doth he frequently and importunately
invite me to sit down, and feed, and spare
not? Hath he, to that end, furnished me with reason,
and faith, and a joyful disposition; and is it possible
that he should be unwilling to have me rejoice? Is it not
his command, to delight thyself in the Lord; and his
promise, to give thee the desires of thine heart? Art thou
not charged, to rejoice evermore: yea, to sing aloud, and
shout, for joy? Why should I then be discouraged? My
God is willing, if I were but willing. He is delighted
in my delights. He would have it my constant frame,
and daily business, to be near him in my believing meditations,
and to live in the sweetest thoughts of his goodness.
O blessed employment, fit for the sons of God!
But thy feast, my Lord, is nothing to me without an
appetite: Thou hast set the dainties of heaven before
me; but, alas! I am blind, and cannot see them; I am
sick, and cannot relish them; I am so benumbed, that
I cannot put forth a hand to take them. I therefore
humbly beg this grace, that as thou hast opened heaven
to me in thy word, so thou wouldst open mine eyes to
see it, and my heart to delight in it; else heaven will be
no heaven to me. O thou Spirit of life, breathe upon
thy graces in me; take me by the hand, and lift me from
earth, that I may see what glory thou hast prepared for
them that love thee!
§ 15. "Away then, ye soul-tormenting cares and
fears, ye heart-vexing sorrows: At least forbear a little
while; stand by; stay here below, till I go up, and see
my rest. The way is strange to me, but not to Christ.
There was the eternal abode of his glorious Deity; and
thither hath he also brought his glorified flesh. It was
his work to purchase it; it is his to prepare it, and
prepare me for it, and bring me to it. The eternal God
of truth hath given me his promise, his seal, and oath,
that, believing in Christ, I shall not perish, but have
everlasting life. Thither shall my soul be speedily removed,
and my body very shortly follow. And can my
tongue say, that I shall shortly and surely live with
God; and yet my heart not leap within me? Can I say
it with faith, and not with joy! Ah! faith, how sensibly
do I now perceive thy weakness! But though unbelief
darken my light, and dull my life, and suppress my joys,
it shall not be able to conquer, and destroy me; though
it envy all my comforts, yet some in spite of it I shall
even here receive; and if that did not hinder, what abundance
might I have? The light of heaven would shine
into my heart; and I might be almost as familiar there,
as I am on earth. Come away then, my soul; stop thine
ears to the ignorant language of infidelity; thou art able
to answer all its arguments; or if thou art not, yet tread
them under thy feet. Come away; stand not looking
on that grave, nor turning those bones, nor reading thy
lesson now in the dust; those lines will soon be wiped
out. But lift up thy head, and look to heaven, and see
thy name in golden letters, written before the foundation
of the world, in the book of life of the Lamb that was
slain. What if an angel should tell thee, that there is a
mansion in heaven prepared for thee, that it shall certainly
be thine for ever, would not such a message make
thee glad? And dost thou make light of the infallible
word of promise, which was delivered by the Spirit,
and even by the Son himself? Suppose thou hadst seen a
fiery chariot come for thee, and fetch thee up to heaven,
like Elijah; would not this rejoice thee? But thy Lord
assures thee, that the soul of a Lazarus hath a convoy of
angels to carry it into Abraham's bosom. Shall a drunkard
be so merry among his cups, or the glutton in his
delicious fare, and shall not I rejoice who must shortly
be in heaven? Can meat and drink delight me when I
hunger and thirst; can I find pleasure in walks and gardens,
and convenient dwellings; can beautiful objects
delight mine eyes; or grateful odors my smell; or melody
my ears: and shall not the forethought of celestial
bliss delight me? Methinks among my books I could
employ myself in sweet content, and bid the world farewell,
and pity the rich and great that know not this
happiness; what then will my happiness in heaven be,
where my knowledge will be perfect? If the Queen of
Sheba came from the utmost parts of the earth to hear
the wisdom of Solomon, and see his glory; how cheerfully
should I pass from earth to heaven, to see the
glory of the eternal Majesty, and attain the height of
wisdom; compared with which the most learned on earth
are but fools and ideots? What if God had made me
commander of the earth; what if I could remove mountains,
heal diseases with a word or a touch, or cast out
Devils; should I not rejoice in such privileges and honors
as these; and shall I not much more rejoice that my
name is written in heaven? I cannot here enjoy my parents,
or my near and beloved friends, without some delight;
especially when I did freely let out my affection
to my friend, how sweet was that exercise of my love!
O what will it then be to live in the perpetual love of
God! For brethren to dwell together in unity here,
how good and how pleasant is it! To see a family live
in love, husband and wife, parents, children, and servants,
doing all in love to one another; to see a town
live together in love, without any envyings, brawlings
or contentions, law-suits, factions, or divisions, but
every man loving his neighbor as himself, thinking they
can never do too much for one another, but striving to
go beyond each other in love; how happy, how delightful
a sight is this! O then, what a blessed society will
the family of heaven be, and those peaceful inhabitants
of the New Jerusalem, where there is no division, nor
differing judgments, no disaffection nor strangeness, no
deceitful friendship, no, not one unkind expression, nor
any angry look or thought; but all are one in Christ,
who is one with the Father, and all live in the love of
him, who is love itself! The soul is not more where it
lives, than where it loves. How near then will my soul
be united to God, when I shall so heartily, strongly,
and incessantly love him! Ah, wretched, unbelieving
heart, that can think of such a day, and work, and life
as this, with such low and feeble joys! But my future
enjoying joys will be more lively!
§ 16. "How delightful is it to me to behold and study
these inferior works of creation? What a beautiful fabric
do we here dwell in; the floor so dressed with herbs, and
flowers, and trees, and watered with springs and rivers;
the roof so wide expanded, so admirably adorned! What
wonders do sun, moon, and stars, seas, and winds, contain!
And hath God prepared such a house for corruptible
flesh, for a soul imprisoned; and doth he bestow
so many millions of wonders upon his enemies! O what
a dwelling must that be, which he prepares for his dearly
beloved children; and how will the glory of the new
Jerusalem exceed all the present glory of the creatures?
Arise then, O my soul, in thy contemplation; and let
thy thoughts of that glory as far exceed in sweetness thy
thoughts of the excellencies below! Fear not to go out
of this body, and this world, when thou must make so
happy a change; but say, as one did when he was dying,
I am glad, and even leap for joy, that the time is come
in which that mighty JEHOVAH, whose Majesty, in
my search of nature I have admired, whose goodness I
have adored, whom by faith I have desired and panted
after, will now shew himself to me face to face.
§ 17. "How wonderful also are the works of Providence?
How delightful to see the great God interest
himself in the safety and advancement of a few humble,
praying, but despised persons; and to review those special
mercies with which my own life hath been adorned
and sweetened? How often have my prayers been heard,
my tears regarded, my troubled soul relieved? How often
hath my Lord bid me be of good cheer? What a support
are these experiences, these clear testimonies of my
Father's love, to my fearful unbelieving heart? O then,
what a blessed day will that be, when I shall have all mercy,
perfection of mercy, and fully enjoy the Lord of
mercy; when I shall stand on the shore, and look back
on the raging seas I have safely passed; when I shall
review my pains and sorrows, my fears and tears, and
possess the glory which was the end of all? If one drop
of lively faith was mixed with these considerations, what
a heaven-ravishing heart should I carry within me?
Fain would I believe; Lord, help my unbelief.
§ 18. "How sweet, O my soul, have ordinances
been to thee? What delight hast thou had in prayer, and
thanksgiving, under heavenly sermons, and in the society
of saints, and to see the Lord adding to the church such
as should be saved? How can my heart then conceive the
joy, which I shall have to see the perfected church in
heaven, and to be admitted into the celestial temple, and
with the heavenly host praise the Lord forever? If the
word of God was sweeter to Job than his necessary food;
and to David, than honey and the honey-comb; and was
the joy and rejoicing of Jeremiah's heart; how blessed a
day will that be, when we fully enjoy the Lord of this
word, and shall no more need these written precepts and
promises, nor read any book but the face of the glorious
God? If they that heard Christ speak on earth, were
astonished at his wisdom and answers, and wondered
at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth;
how shall I then be affected to behold him in his
majesty?
§ 19. "Can the prospect of this glory make others
welcome the cross, and even refuse deliverance; and cannot
it make thee cheerful under lesser sufferings? Can
it sweeten the flames of martyrdom; and not sweeten thy
life, or thy sickness, or thy natural death? Is it not
the same heaven which they and I must live in? Is not
their God, their Christ, their crown, and mine the same?
And shall I look upon it with an eye so dim, a heart so
dull, a countenance so dejected? Some small foretastes
of it have I myself had; and how much more delightful
have they been, than any earthly things ever were; and
what then will the full enjoyment be?
§ 20. "What a beauty is there here in the imperfect
graces of the Spirit? Alas! how small are these, to what
we shall enjoy in our perfect state? What a happy life
should I here live, could I but love God as much as I
would; could I be all love, and always loving? O my
soul! what wouldst thou give for such a life? had I
such apprehensions of God, such knowledge of his word
as I desire? could I fully trust him in all my straits;
could I be as lively as I would in every duty; could I
make God my constant desire and delight; I would not
envy the world their honors or pleasures. What a blessed
state, O my soul! wilt thou shortly be in, when thou
shalt have far more of these than thou canst now desire,
and shalt exercise thy perfected graces in the immediate
vision of God, and not in the dark, and at a distance, as
now?
§ 21. "Is the sinning, afflicted, persecuted church of
Christ, so much more excellent than any particular gracious
soul? What then will the church be, when it is
fully gathered and glorified; when it is ascended from
the valley of tears to mount Sion; when it shall sin and
suffer no more! The glory of the old Jerusalem will be
darkness and deformity to the glory of the new. What
cause shall we have then to shout for joy, when we shall
see how glorious the heavenly temple is, and remember
the meanness of the church on earth?"
[N. B. If this Chapter seems too long to be read at
once, it may be properly divided here.]
§ 22. "But alas! what a loss am I at in the midst of
my contemplations? I thought my heart had all the
while attended, but I see it doth not. What life is there
in empty thoughts and words, without affections? Neither
God, nor I, find pleasure in them. Where hast
thou been, unworthy heart, while I was opening to thee
the everlasting treasures? Art thou not ashamed to
complain so much of an uncomfortable life, and to murmur
at God for filling thee with sorrows; when he in
vain offers thee the delights of angels? Hadst thou now
but followed me close, it would have made thee revive
and leap for joy, and forget thy pains and sorrows. Did
I think my heart had been so backward to rejoice?
§ 23. "Lord, thou hast reserved my perfect joys for
heaven: therefore, help me to desire till I may possess,
and let me long when I cannot, as I would rejoice. O
my soul, thou knowest to thy sorrow, that thou art not
yet at thy rest. When shall I arrive at that safe and quiet
harbor, where there are none of these storms, waves,
and dangers; when I shall never more have a weary restless
night or day! Then my life will not be such a mixture
of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow; nor shall flesh
and spirit be combatting within me; nor faith and unbelief,
humility and pride, maintain a continual conflict.
O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears, and
cares, and griefs? When shall I be out of this soul-contradicting,
ensnaring, deceitful flesh; this corruptible
body, this vain, vexatious world! Alas, that I must stand
and see the church and cause of Christ tossed about in
contention, and made subservient to private interests, or
deluded fancies! There is none of this disorder in the
heavenly Jerusalem; there I shall find an harmonious
consent of perfected spirits, in obeying and praising
their everlasting King. O how much better to be a door-keeper
there, than the commander of this tumultuous
world? Why am I no more weary of this weariness?
Why do I so forget my resting place? Up then, O my
soul, in thy most raised and fervent desires! Stay not till
this flesh can desire with thee; expect not that sense
should apprehend thy blessed object, and tell thee when
and what to desire. Doth not the dulness of thy desires
after rest, accuse thee of most detestable ingratitude
and folly? Must thy Lord procure thee a rest at so
dear a rate, and dost thou no more value it? Must he
go before to prepare so glorious a mansion for such a
wretch, and art thou loth to go and possess it? Shall the
Lord of Glory be desirous of thy company, and thou
not desirous of his? Must earth become a very hell to
thee, before thou art willing to be with God? Behold
the most lovely creature, or the most desirable state, and
tell me, where wouldst thou be, if not with God? Poverty
is a burden; riches a snare; sickness unpleasing;
health unsafe; the frowning world bruises thy heel; the
smiling world stings thee to the heart; so much as the
world is loved and delighted in, it hurts and endangers
the lover; and, if it may not be loved, why should it be
desired? If thou art applauded, it proves the most contagious
breath; if thou art vilified, or unkindly used,
methinks this should not entice thy love. If thy successful
labors, and thy godly friends, seem better to thee
than a life with God, it is time for God to take them
from thee. If thy studies have been sweet, have they
not also been bitter? And at best, what are they to the
everlasting views of the God of truth? Thy friends here
have been thy delight; and have they not also been thy
vexation and grief? They are gracious, and are they not
also sinful? They are kind, and are they not soon displeased?
They are humble, but, alas, how proud also?
Their graces are sweet, and their gifts helpful; but are
not their corruptions bitter, and their imperfections
hurtful? And art thou so loth to go from them to thy
God?
§ 24. "O my soul, look above this world of sorrows!
Hast thou so long felt the smarting rod of affliction, and
no better understood its meaning? Is not every stroke
to drive thee hence? Is not its voice like that to Elijah,
what dost thou here? Dost thou forget thy Lord's prediction.
In the world ye shall have tribulation, in me
ye may have peace. Ah! my dear Lord, I feel thy
meaning; it is written in my flesh, engraved in my bones.
My heart thou aimest at; thy rod drives, thy silken cord
of love draws; and all to bring it to thyself. Lord, can
such a heart be worth thy having? Make it worthy, and
then it is thine; take it to thyself, and then take me.
This clod hath life to stir, but not to rise. As the feeble
child to the tender mother, it looketh up to thee,
and stretcheth out the hands, and fain would have thee
take it up. Though I cannot say, my soul longeth after
thee; yet I can say, I long for such a longing heart. The
spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. My spirit cries, let
thy kingdom come, or let me come to thy kingdom; but
the flesh is afraid thou shouldst hear my prayer, and
take me at my word. O blessed be thy grace, which
makes use of my corruptions to kill themselves; for I
fear my fears, and sorrow for my sorrows, and long for
greater longings; and thus the painful means of attaining
my desires increase my weariness, and that makes me
groan to be at rest.
§ 25. "Indeed, Lord, my soul itself is in a strait,
and what to choose I know not; but thou knowest what
to give: to depart, and be with thee, is far better. But
to abide in the flesh seems needful. Thou knowest I am
not weary of thy work, but of sorrow and sin; I am
willing to stay while thou wilt employ me, and dispatch
the work thou hast put into my hands: But, I beseech
thee, stay no longer when this is done; and while I must
be here, let me be still amending and ascending; make
me still better and take me at the best. I dare not be so
impatient, as to importune thee to cut off my time, and
snatch me hence unready; because I know my everlasting
state so much depends on the improvement of this life.
Nor would I stay when my work is done; and remain
here sinning, while my brethren are triumphing. Thy
footsteps bruise this worm, while those stars shine in the
firmament of glory. Yet I am thy child as well as they;
Christ is my Head as well as theirs; why is there then
so great a distance? But I acknowledge the equity of thy
ways; though we are all children, yet I am the prodigal,
and therefore more fit in this remote country to feed on
husks, while they are always with thee, and possess thy
glory. They were once themselves in my condition,
and I shall shortly be in theirs. They were of the lowest
form, before they came to the highest; they suffered,
before they reigned; they came out of great tribulation,
who are now before thy throne; and shall not I be content
to come to the crown as they did; and to drink of
their cup; before I sit with them in the kingdom? Lord,
I am content to stay thy time, and go thy way, so thou
wilt exalt me also in thy season, and take me into thy
barn, when thou seest me ripe. In the mean time I may
desire, though I am not to repine; I may believe and
wish, though not make any sinful haste: I am willing
to wait for thee, but not to lose thee; and when thou
seest me too contented with thine absence, then quicken
my languid desires, and blow up the dying spark of love;
and leave me not till I am able unfeignedly to cry out,
'As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth
my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God,
for the living God; when shall I come and appear before
God? My conversation is in heaven, from whence
I look for a Savior. My affections are set on things
above, where Christ sitteth, and my life is hid. I walk
by faith, and not by sight; willing rather to be absent
from the body, and present with the Lord.'
§ 26. "What interest hath this empty world in me;
and what is there in it that may seem so lovely, as to
entice my desires from my God, or make me loth to come
away? Methinks, when I look upon it with a deliberate
eye, it is a howling wilderness, and too many of its inhabitants
are untamed monsters; I can view all its
beauty as deformity; and drown all its pleasures in a few
penitent tears; or the wind of a sigh will scatter them
away. O let not this flesh so seduce my soul, as to
make it prefer this weary life before the joys that are
about thy throne! And though death itself be unwelcome
to nature, yet let thy grace make thy glory appear
to me so desirable, that the king of terrors may be the messenger
of my joy! Let not my soul be ejected by violence,
and dispossessed of its habitation against its will; but
draw it to thyself by the secret power of thy love as the
sunshine in the spring draws forth the creatures from
their winter cells; meet it half way and entice it to thee,
as the load-stone doth the iron, and as the greater flame
attracts the less! Dispel therefore the clouds that hide
thy love from me; or remove the scales that hinder mine
eyes from beholding thee; for the beams that stream from
thy face, and the foretaste of thy great salvation, and
nothing else can make a soul unfeignedly say now let thy
servant depart in peace! But it is not thy ordinary discoveries
that will here suffice; as the work is greater, so
must thy help be. O turn these fears into strong desires,
and this lothness to die into longings after thee!
While I must be absent from thee, let my soul as heartily
groan, as my body doth under its want of health! If I
have any more time to spend on earth, let me live, as
without the world, in thee, as I have sometime lived as
without thee in the world! While I have a thought to
think, let me not forget thee; or a tongue to move, let
me mention thee with delight; or a breath to breathe, let
it be after thee, or for thee; or a knee to bend, let it
daily bow at thy footstool; and when by sickness thou
confinest me, do thou make my bed, number my pains,
and put all my tears into thy bottle!
§ 27. "As my flesh desired what my spirit abhorred,
so now let my spirit desire that day which my flesh abhorreth;
that my friends may not with so much sorrow
wait for the departure of my soul, as my soul with joy
shall wait for its own departure! Then let me die the
death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his;
even a removal to that glory that shall never end! Then
let thy convoy of angels bring my departing soul among
the perfected spirits of the just, and let me follow my
dear friends that have died in Christ before me; and
while my sorrowing friends are weeping over my grave,
let my spirit be reposed with thee in rest; and while my
corpse shall lie rotting in the dark, let my soul be in the
inheritance of the saints in light! O thou that numberest
the very hairs of my head, number all the days that my
body lies in the dust; and thou that writest all my members
in thy book, keep an account of my scattered bones!
O my Savior, hasten the time of thy return; send forth
thy angels, and let that dreadful, joyful trumpet sound!
Delay not, lest the living give up their hopes; delay
not, lest earth should grow like hell, and thy church,
by division, be all crumbled to dust; delay not, lest
thy enemies get advantage of thy flock, and lest pride,
hypocrisy, sensuality, and unbelief prevail against thy
little remnant, and share amongst them thy whole inheritance,
and when thou comest, thou find not faith on the
earth; delay not, lest the grave should boast of victory,
and having learned rebellion of its guest, should refuse
to deliver thee up thy due! O hasten that great resurrection
day, when thy command shall go forth, and none
shall disobey; when the sea and earth shall yield up
their hostages, and all that sleep in the grave shall
awake, and the dead in Christ shall rise first; when the
seed which thou sowedst corruptible, shall come forth
incorruptible; and graves that received rottenness and
dust, shall return thee glorious stars and suns! Therefore
dare I lay down my carcass in the dust, entrusting
it, not to a grave, but to thee, and therefore my flesh
shall rest in hope, till thou shalt raise it to the possession
of everlasting rest. Return, O Lord, how long? O let
thy kingdom come! Thy desolate bride saith, Come! for
thy Spirit within her saith, Come; and teacheth her
thus to pray with groanings which cannot be uttered;
yea, the whole creation saith, Come, waiting to be delivered
from the bondage of corruption into the glorious
liberty of the children of God; thou thyself hast said,
Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, Come Lord
Jesus?"
§ 28. Thus, reader, I have given thee my best advice
for maintaining a heavenly conversation, If thou canst
not thus meditate methodically and fully, yet do it as thou
canst: only be sure to do it seriously and frequently.
Be acquainted with this heavenly work, and thou wilt, in
some degree, be acquainted with God; thy joys will be
spiritual, prevalent, and lasting, according to the nature
of their blessed object; thou wilt have comfort in life
and death: When thou hast neither wealth, nor health,
nor the pleasure of this world, yet wilt thou have comfort:
Without the presence, or help of any friend, without
a minister, without a book, when all means are denied
thee, or taken from thee, yet mayest thou have vigorous,
real comfort. Thy graces will be mighty, active, and
vigorous; and the daily joy, which is thus fetched from
heaven will be thy strength. Thou wilt be as one that
stands on the top of an exceeding high mountain; he
looks down on the world as if it were quite below him;
fields and woods, cities and towns, seem to him but little
spots. Thus despicably wilt thou look on all things here
below. The greatest princes will seem but as grashoppers;
the busy, contentious, covetous world, but as a
heap of ants. Men's threatenings will be no terror to
thee; nor the honors of this world any strong enticement;
temptations will be more harmless, as having lost
their strength; and afflictions less grievous, as having lost
their sting; and every mercy will be better known, and
relished. It is now, under God, in thy own choice,
whether thou wilt live this blessed life or not; and
whether all this pains I have taken for thee shall prosper,
or be lost. If it be lost through thy laziness, thou thyself
wilt prove the greatest loser. O man, what hast
thou to mind but God and heaven? Art thou not almost
out of this world already? Dost thou not look every
day, when one disease or other will let out thy soul?
Does not the grave wait to be thine house; and worms to
feed upon thy face and heart? What if thy pulse must
beat a few strokes more? What if thou hast a little longer
to breathe, before thou breathe out thy last; a few more
nights to sleep, before thou sleepest in the dust? Alas!
what will this be, when it is gone? And is it not almost
gone already? Very shortly thou wilt see thy glass run
out, and say to thyself, "My life is done! My time is
gone! 'Tis past recalling! There's nothing now but
heaven or hell before me!" Where then should thy heart
be now, but in heaven? Didst thou know what a dreadful
thing it is, to have a doubt of heaven when a man is
dying it would rouse thee up. And what else but doubt
can that man then do, that never seriously thought of
heaven before?
§ 29. Some there be that say, "It is not worth so
much time and trouble, to think of the greatness of the
joys above; so that we can make sure they are ours; we
know they are great." But as these men obey not the
command of God, which requires them to have their
conversation in heaven, and to set their affections on
things above; so they wilfully make their own lives miserable,
by refusing the delights which God hath set before
them. And if this were all, it were a small matter;
but see what abundance of other mischiefs follow the
neglect of these heavenly delights. This neglect—will
damp, if not destroy, their love to God;—will make it
unpleasant to them to think or speak of God, or engage
in his service;—it tends to pervert their judgments concerning
the ways and ordinances of God;—it makes them
sensual and voluptuous;—it leaves them under the power
of every affliction and temptation, and is a preparative
to total apostasy;—it will also make them fearful and
unwilling to die. For who would go to a God, or a
place, he hath no delight in? Who would leave his pleasure
here, if he had not better to go to? Had I only proposed
a course of melancholy and fear, and sorrow, you
might reasonably have objected. But you must have
heavenly delights, or none that are lasting. God is willing
you should daily walk with him, and fetch in consolations
from the everlasting fountain; if you are unwilling,
even bear the loss; and when you are dying, seek
for comfort where you can get it, and see whether fleshly
delights will remain with you; then conscience will
remember, in spite of you, that you was once persuaded
to a way for more excellent pleasures, pleasures
that would have followed you through death, and have
lasted to eternity.
§ 30. As for you, whose hearts God hath weaned
from all things here below, I hope you will value this
heavenly life, and take one walk every day in the new
Jerusalem. God is your love, and your desire, you
would fain be more acquainted with your Savior; and
I know it is your grief, that your hearts are not nearer
to him, and that they do not more feelingly love him,
and delight in him. O try this life of meditation on
your heavenly rest! Here is the mount, on which the
fluctuating ark of your souls may rest. Let the world
see by your heavenly lives that religion is something more
than opinions and disputes, or a task of outward duties.
If ever a Christian is like himself, and answerable to his
principles and profession, it is when he is most serious
and lively in this duty. As Moses before he died, went
up unto mount Nebo, to take a survey of the land of Canaan;
so the Christian ascends this mount of contemplation,
and by faith surveys his rest. He looks upon
the glorious mansions, and says, "Glorious things are
deservedly spoken of thee, thou city of God!" He hears,
as it were, the melody of the heavenly choir, and says,
"Happy is the people that is in such a case; yea, happy
is that people, whose God is the Lord!" He looks
upon the glorified inhabitants, and says, "Happy art
thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee, O people, saved
by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and who is the sword
of thine excellency!" When he looks upon the Lord
himself, who is their glory, he is ready with the rest, to
fall down, and worship him, that liveth for ever and
ever, and say, "Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty,
which was, and is, and is to come! Thou art worthy, O
Lord, to receive glory, and honor, and power!" When
he looks on the glorified Savior, he is ready to say,
Amen, to that new Song, "Blessing, and honor, and
glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever: For thou
wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood,
out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation;
and hast made us, unto our God, kings and priests!"
When he looks back on the wilderness of this world, he
blesses the believing, patient, despised saints; he pities
the ignorant, obstinate, miserable world; and for himself,
he says, as Peter, "It is good to be here"; or as
Asaph, "It is good for me to draw near to God; for lo,
they that are far from thee, shall perish." Thus, as Daniel,
in his captivity, daily opened his window toward Jerusalem,
though far out of sight, when he went to God
in his devotions; so may the believing soul, in this captivity
of the flesh, look towards Jerusalem which is
above: And as Paul was to the Colossians, so may the
believer be with the glorified spirits, though absent in the
flesh, yet with them in the spirit, joying and beholding
their heavenly order. And as the lark sweetly sings,
while she soars on high, but is suddenly silenced when
she falls to the earth; so is the frame of the soul most delightful
and divine, while it keeps in the views of God
by contemplation: Alas, we make there too short a stay,
fall down again, and lay by our music!
§ 31. But, "O thou, the merciful Father of Spirits,
the attractive of love, and ocean of delights, draw up
these drossy hearts unto thyself, and keep them there till
they are spiritualized and refined; and second thy servant's
weak endeavors, and persuade those that read
these lines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly
work! O suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant
to be a stranger to those joys, which he describes
to others; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily
breathings after thee, and in a believing, affectionate
walking with thee! And when thou comest, let me be
found so doing; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with
my lamp unfurnished; but waiting and longing for my
Lord's return! Let those who shall read these heavenly
directions, not merely read the fruit of my studies; but
the breathings of my active hope and love: That, if my
heart were open to their view, they might there read the
same most deeply engraven with a beam from the face
of the Son of God; and not find vanity, or lust, or pride
within, when the words of life appear without; that so
these lines may not witness against me; but, proceeding
from the heart of the writer, may be effectual, through
thy grace, upon the heart of the reader, and so be the
savor of life to both! Amen."
Glory be to God in the highest; on earth peace; good
will towards men.
FINIS.