to his thunder, who refifts the proud? it is not the fweetest course, to provide for my eafe and peace, in avoiding a thousand things, which will never let the proud be quiet; and is it not the most recommending course; inftead of lofing me, to render me more confiderable, than fuch as discover their nakedness, in fcrambling up to fnatch at honour; yea, to raise me higher in his favour, who has refpect to the lowly, and gives grace to the humble? and yet, confider, my foul, how fmall a matter is this, which the Lord my God requires of me; but to acknowledge my poverty and unworthiness, my vileness and finfulness; that is, to confefs the plain truth. And tho' I cannot attain to high things, yet fure I may be fen fible of my low eftate. To be clothed with humility, will put me to no charges; but fave abundance of needless expences. And, O my foul, what a worththlefs infignificant thing is the praise of men; that ever thou shouldeft be greedy to live upon fuch air and wind, let them think and fpeak, either in my commendation, or my difparagement; I am but all one ftill as I was. And their mistakes, in my favour, will make no manner of addition to my worth and goodness and their cenfures to my defamation and wrong, and lay me never the lower, nor make me ever the worse. The bladder looks big, but it has nothing in it. Compliments and flattery, are but lies to please fools. And that honour, which is called the fhadow of virtue, whether it follow me, or fly me, let me remember it is ftill but a fhadow. To walk in my integrity, and discharge my duty, that will do more good, and bring more peace and joy to me, than to have all the men in the world applaud me. And though I mifs of the commendations from them; it will be infinitely better for me, to hear at last, well done, from my Lord. O let me be mindful of the talents committed to me; and the charge that lies upon me, and then be in fuch care

to

to give a good account of my stewardship to him, that I little regard their opinion of me, who are all to receive their own doom along with me. Let me ftill be checking and mortifying the vain humour; and not only reason, but exercife myself out of it; and every day be calling to mind somewhat, to put me to confufion: and every day be doing somewhat in the way of that humiliation, which is the very foundation of my falvation.

And look up, my foul, to thy great preferver and defender, against all thy foes, and pray in his help against this worst of them all, myself, that he may pluck the old man out of his ftrong hold; even the the pride, where he fortifies himself. O importune him, that has pulled down many ftout hearts, to make inine yield; and fo to take me down here; that he may raise me for ever; and bring me, as a little child, to enter the kingdom of heaven.

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ORD! what is man, that thou art mindful of him! and what am I, poor finful duft "and afhes, that I should fo forget myself? O what "have I to be proud of? what good, that I have "not received! O how much evil that I have com"mitted, for which I ought to be humbled? but I " can be proud without reafon, yea, and against it. "For all pride is most unreasonable; and nothing "more abfurd than for the vile to exalt themselves. "Yet, who can humble the heart but he that made "it? O thou Almighty Lord, who haft taken down

many a proud heart, be pleafed to take mine in "hand, and get the fame conqueft over it. Keep "every humbling confideration working in my "mind; which may make me low in my own eyes, "ready to give deference to others, and ever walk"ing humbly with my God. Amen.”

T

MEDITATION LXXVII.

Of a relenting heart.

O be overtaken with faults, and fall into fin, is the forrowful ftate of poor mortals; and the unavoidable appendage of human frailty. But that which fome can very easily pafs over, others do as grievously resent and lay to heart. Where wicked men are sturdy as rocks; and when they have done never fo abominably, neither melt nor fmay at the matter; as foon as the child of God perceives he has done an ill thing, his heart fmites him; his confcience falls foul upon him; he is pricked with remorfe of fpirit, and torn with pangs of mind; and buffeted with those inward ftrokes, and wrung with fuch convulfions of foul, as make him feel to the quick, into what a forry cafe he has thrown himfelf. The fin which at firft fhewed a fair face, after bites and ftings like a ferpent. That which promised mighty matters; to make him haften into the fnare, when there he is taken, discovers a horrid vifage, and leaves the poor foul nothing but terror and damage, and fad repentance; and to recoil upon himfelf, and think what he has done. It cuts and breaks bis heart; and throws him into bitterness, and anguifh, and the fhadow of death. It bows him down under the load, and makes him go mourning all the day long; fo there is no reft in his bones, becauíe of his fin; and no comfort can he find with his life, till he has humbled himself, and found a reconciled God.

And, O my foul, how great a bleffing from the Lord, is such a tender heart! though for the time

it puts us to pain, and makes us fmart for our fins, and feel a hell in our fouls; yet those very stripes are healing, and the fharp phyfic is preventing, to fave us from lying for ever under the pains of an endless hell. For it is not fo much the offence itself, as their impenitent continuance in it, that damns the wicked; feeing every penitent, however he has finned, has the promise to be pardoned. O then what a privilege is it, for the poor obnoxious crea. ture, upon fuch terms, to be taken into favour! and what a fingular mercy from above, to have fuch a broken contrite heart, as the offended God will not defpife! that when I have finned, and am full of remorfe for it; in his gracious account, I have again undone it; and he will not lay it to my charge, but upon my Saviour's fcore; and how black and foul foever it be, will blot it out as a thick cloud; and where my fin has abounded, his grace will abundantly pardon!

What then, my foul, fo needful and good for me, can I beg of the Lord, as a foft and yielding heart, that fhall not fuffer me to fin without fmart; a heart tender, as the apple of my eye, that will not endure the least mote in it; but grieves and weeps, till eased of it? fuch a heart will be my conftant monitor, and faithful preferver, to keep me with my God; to fetch me back, when I go aftray; and to fet me right, when I do amifs. O that I had fuch a heart to give him, who calls for my heart! Lord, I give mine to thee, that it may be made fuch by thee. And never shall I envy any, that can fin moft heinously; and bring themselves off as lightly who, when they are the niceft men, to feel any hurt upon their bodies, and there a little grievance will extort their impatient cries; yet let fin make the faddeft breaches and havock upon their poor fouls, they have no sense, but drive on boldly, and carry it off pleasantly, and fhew as brisk and

jocund

jocund as if they ailed nothing. Nay, they can applaud themselves in the advantage they have over the child of God; to escape that godly forrow, in which he pays fo dear for his fin. And indeed, they may as well rejoice, that the devil has brought them to his bow, that he can do even what he will with them; and they feel no hurt by it, but rather take pleasure in it, and make their boast of it. And shall they fo always escape? No fuch mat ter, the Lord knows; but fhall once feel it the more, because they now feel it fo little; and the more fearful ftill is their cafe, the lefs they are afraid. For there will at laft be the more terrible feeling, when they are awakened out of the dead fleep, and the pleasant dream is gone, and all the heavy reckoning to come.

O my foul, here is the comfort then, that my cafe is not hopeless, as long as I am not fenfeless. For that which fo troubles me, fhall not undo me. Though my heart correct me; fuch blows are the kindnefs of a friend. And the wounding of my fpirit, is medicinal, to prevent the lofs of my foul. O how happy to know the worft of it in this life, and to have all my hell upon earth! let my confcience lafh me for every offence: fuch feeming feverity is the greatest mercy. Sweet forrow now for finning, that will keep me from eternal forrowing! fuch difcipline is like to make me good for fomething. Bleffed therefore be the hand, that will thus break me off my fins! and fo let me be chaftened of the Lord, that I may not be condemned with the world.

Where is my relenting heart, when I can count it but a fmall thing, to have com"mitted great fins; and after I have made bold to

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