Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Master Peacock, the servant of God, in the beginning of his visitation, for the space of two weeks and four days, was full of most Heavenly consolations; showing by sweet meditations, and gracious ejaculations, the entertainment he found with his God in his sickness, with whom he so much desired to be acquainted in his health. We are (saith one coming to visit him) miserable comforters. Nay (saith he) Ye are good, for this ⟨p. 2⟩is the privilege even of Gods children, that their very presence affords comfort. Sometimes h• craved pardon for his actions, & for the circumstances by them badly observed: otherwhile h• desired to have some matter given him to meditate upon. Finally he said, his hope was firmly settled on the rock Christ Jesus He hoped that the Lord woul• give him a place, though it wer• in the lowest room of his Saints And he thanked God he had n• trouble of conscience, the Lor• did not suffer Satan to vex him In so much that some seeing hi• great comfort, feared lest h• would be overtaken with sorrow before his death: he much rejoiced that the Lord had so disposed of him, that he had see• his friends in the Country. Her• first was his yielding unto death ⟨p. 3⟩suspected, and his hoped recovery doubted. Calling some of •is friends aside, I thought (saith •e) I had been in a good estate, but […] see it now far otherwise: For hese things my conscience lays against me: First, I brought up my scholars in Gluttony, letting them eat heir fill of meat, when they mealed ith me. This some endeavoured o pull out, by putting into his mind, 1. The preventing of may inconveniences. 2. His well known moderation. 3. The great care he took for good conference, when they were at table with him. But (saith he) while I was talking, they did undo themselves. And further, I did unadvisedly expound places of Scripture at the table many times; and for these I feel now a Hell in my conscience. Again, I have procured my own death, by often eating like a beast,
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when I came jostling up and dow• to my friends in the Country; An• now I see before my face those dis• es of meat wherewith I clogged m• stomach. Well (saith one to him If all the things you accuse you self of were undone, would yo• do them again? Nay: why the• doubt not but a Reprobate woul• desire to be saved, if a desire woul• serve the turn:
MAster Peacock, the servant of God, in the beginning of his visitation, for the space of two weeks and foure dayes, was full of most Heavenly consolations; shewing by sweet meditations, and gracious ejaculations, the entertainment he found with his God in his sicknes, with whom he so much desired to be acquainted in his health. We are (saith one comming to visit him) miserable comforters. Nay (saith he) Ye are good, for this ⟨p. 2⟩is the priviledge even of Gods children, that their very presence affords comfort. Sometimes h• craved pardon for his actions, & for the circumstances by them badly observed: otherwhile h• desired to have some matter given him to meditate upon. Finally he said, his hope was firmly setled on the rock Christ Jesus He hoped that the Lord woul• give him a place, though it wer• in the lowest room of his Saints And he thanked God he had n• trouble of conscience, the Lor• did not suffer Satan to vex him In so much that some seeing hi• great comfort, feared lest h• would be overtaken with sorrow before his death: he much rejoyced that the Lord had so disposed of him, that he had see• his friēds in the Countrey. Her• first was his yeelding unto deat•⟨p. 3⟩suspected, and his hoped reco•ery doubted. Calling some of •is friends aside, I thought (saith •e) I had been in a good estate, but 〈…〉 see it now farre otherwise: For •hese things my conscience layes a•ainst me: First, I brought up my •cholars in Gluttony, letting thē eat •heir fill of meat, when they mealed •ith me. This some endeavoured •o pull out, by putting into his minde, 1. The preventing of ma•y inconveniencies. 2. His well known moderation. 3. The great care he took for good conference, when they were at table with him. But (saith he) while I was talking, they did undoe themselves. And further, I did unadvisedly expound places of Scripture at the table many times; and for these I feel now a Hell in my conscience. Again, I have procured my own death, by often eating like a beast, ⟨p. 4⟩when I came justling up and dow• to my friends in the Countrey; An• now I see before my face those dis• es of meat wherewith I clogged m• stomack. Well (saith one to him If all the things you accuse you self of were undone, would yo• doe them again? Nay: why the• doubt not but a Reprobate woul• desire to be saved, if a desire woul• serve the turne:
indeed he ma••• have a desire, but of bare willingness, not with an intent an• purpose in using of the means Another time a worthy friend o• his asking him how he did: h• cried out, Sin, Sin, Sin What doth any lye on your conscience? Yea. What? My unconsideratenes, I did eat too much of suc• meat to breakfast such a morning […] my self being an eye-witness o• his great abstinence, could no• choose but admire the tenderness ⟨p. 5⟩•f his self-accusing conscience. Well (said he) God be thanked •here is no greater. As we must •ot extenuate our sins, so neither must we too much aggravate our sin. Let drunkards •nd gluttons have those terrible horrors. I thank God I never continued in any known sin against my conscience. He was willing that he should pray with him: kneeling down he said, he was •hen uncapable of prayers. Afterward he kneeled down of his •own accord: shortly after he broke out into such speeches, A damnable, wretched &c. these are nor your words (saith one) you cannot deny but you have had good experience of Gods mercies. I cannot. Then be comforted, for whom he loveth once, he loveth to the end. Yet Satan took such advantage of his infirmities, that ⟨p. 6⟩though he could find some comfort, yet no particular assurance. You have lived profitably (said one) I have endeavoured. You are now humbled, and the Lord looks that you should ask mercy. M. Dod was sent for, who being come, they were private awhile, afterwards we coming in to them, M. Dod put him in mind of Gods kindness: whereof he showed to him four parts. 1. To take small things in good part. 2. To pass by infirmities. 3. To be easily entreated. 4. To be entreated for the greatest.
indeed he ma••• have a desire, but of bare willingnes, not with an intent an• purpose in using of the means Another time a worthy friend o• his asking him how he did: h• cryed out, Sinne, Sinne, Sinne What doth any lye on your conscience? Yea. What? My unconsideratenes, I did eat too much of suc• meat to breakfast such a morning 〈…〉 my self being an eye-witnes o• his great abstinence, could no• choose but admire the tenderne•⟨p. 5⟩•f his self-accusing conscience. Well (said he) God be thanked •here is no greater. As we must •ot extenuate our sinnes, so nei•her must we too much aggra•ate our sinne. Let drunkards •nd gluttons have those terrible •orrours. I thank God I never con•inued in any known sinne against my conscience. He was willing that he should pray with him: kneeling down he said, he was •hen uncapable of prayers. Afterward he kneeled down of his •own accord: shortly after he •roke out into such speeches, A damnable, wretched &c. these are nor your words (saith one) you cannot deny but you have had good experience of Gods mercies. I cannot. Then be comforted, for whom he loveth once, he loveth to the end. Yet Satan took such advantage of his infirmities, that ⟨p. 6⟩though he could finde some comfort, yet no particular assurance. You have lived profitably (said one) I have endeavoured. You are now humbled, and the Lord looks that you should ask mercy. M. Dod was sent for, who being come, they were private awhile, afterwards we comming in to them, M. Dod put him in minde of Gods kindenes: whereof he shewed to him foure parts. 1. To take small things in good part. 2. To passe by infirmities. 3. To be easily intreated. 4. To be intreated for the greatest.
Sir, there is now in you the image of the old Adam, sin and sorrow: there shall be in you the image of the new, holiness and happiness. The life to come may be set out by three things. 1. The estate of it self, happiness, ⟨p. 7⟩holiness, and glory. 2. By the […] company, every one shall ••e you better then any one, e••n the best, can love you here.
Sir, there is now in you the image of the old Adam, sin and sorrow: there shall be in you the image of the new, holines and happinesse. The life to come may be set out by three things. 1. The estate of it self, happines, ⟨p. 7⟩holines, and glory. 2. By the 〈…〉 company, every one shall ••e you better then any one, e••n the best, can love you here.
There are three differences between the afflictions of the good ••d of the bad. 1. In the cause, •r they come to the good for •ods love. 2. In the measure, […] far as they need, and are a•••e to bear. 3. In the end, for ••eir good.
There are three differences be••een the afflictions of the good ••d of the bad. 1. In the cause, •r they come to the good for •ods love. 2. In the measure, 〈…〉 farre as they need, and are a•••e to bear. 3. In the end, for ••eir good.
Of those former doubts we afterwards heard not a word ••om him. Upon the Sabbath••y he desired to be alone: after ••on he was fearfully troubled. […] his countenance appeared evident tokens of a sorrowful •inde, born up with a weak •ody; his spirit was wounded, ••tan had foiled him. Those his ••rrible wrestlings with tentations, ⟨p. 8⟩gripes of conscience, a•• restless terrors, none can under stand, (much less express but he which felt them. S• tan had winnowed him, an• showed him nothing but chaff• His tender conscience w• gored with the fiery dar• of the Devil, pointed wit• the edge of sin, an• sense of Gods heavy wra•• As through a false glass, th• dazzled eye of his astonished and amazed soul, coul• see nothing but hideously appearing sin, and th• terrible image of death an• damnation. He had drunk deeply of the cup of th• dregs of Hell. His adversary had represented unto him his once most gracious God, now as a mos• severe Judge displeased, angry, ⟨p. 9⟩and chiding with •im; yea yielding him up •nto his claws: that so by •his deadly stratagem, he •ight take from him all •ope of help that way, and •o not only stop the sensible flowing of Gods grace; •nd cut the chains of Gods •ove, whereby he had tied •im, and would draw him •fter him, but finally break •is Christian heart. Oh •hat you had seen, or that we that were present had had eyes to have seen his •eeming forlorn soul. What with barkings of conscience, and with the too heavy burden of sin, waves of fearful thoughts, •lustering blasts, and surging storms of Gods heavy displeasure, he was ⟨p. 10⟩tossed, turmoiled, dashed aga•• the rocks of despair, and m•• then in danger of his souls s•• wrack: happy were we if •• there through frowardness, […] blindness of judgement, we inconsiderately pass by, or p•• phanely deride Gods jud•• ments, by thinking that they • there happen casually, or by f•• getting of them suddenly. […] we could but rightly discern […] we should find nothing m•• profitable, then to have the • mage of this gracious (thou•• now afflicted) soul in our hear• Hereby we may see that t• righteous being scarcely save• there is no place for the wicked a•• ungodly to appear. And true we may think that God sent it •• ven for our sake, that we (w•• whom it is too usual to da• with the Lord) might kno••⟨p. 11⟩that it is a fearful thing to fall in•o his hands.
Of those former doubts we ••terwards heard not a word ••om him. Upon the Sabbath••y he desired to be alone: after ••on he was fearfully troubled. 〈…〉 his countenance appeared evi•ent tokens of a sorrowfull •inde, born up with a weak •ody; his spirit was wounded, ••tan had foiled him. Those his ••rrible wrestlings with tentations, ⟨p. 8⟩gripes of conscience, a•• restles terrours, none can unde• stand, (much lesse expresse but he which felt them. S• tan had winnowed him, an• shewed him nothing but chaff• His tender conscience w• goared with the fiery dar• of the Devil, pointed wit• the edge of sinne, an• sense of Gods heavy wra•• As through a false glasse, th• dazled eye of his astonished and amazed soul, coul• see nothing but hideousl• appearing sinne, and th• terrible image of death an• damnation. He had drun• deeply of the cup of th• dreggs of Hell. His adversary had represented unto him his once most gracious God, now as a mos• severe Judge displeased, angry, ⟨p. 9⟩and chiding with •im; yea yeelding him up nto his clawes: that so by his deadly stratagem, he ight take from him all ope of help that way, and o not onely stop the senible flowing of Gods grace; nd cut the chains of Gods ove, whereby he had tyed im, and would draw him fter him, but finally break is Christian heart. Oh hat you had seen, or that we that were present had had eyes to have seen his eeming forlone soul. What with barkings of conscience, and with the too heavy burthen of sinne, vvaves of fearfull thoughts, lustering blasts, and surging storms of Gods heavy displeasure, he vvas
Our faith is then •ryed in earnest, when as the Lord hideth his face from us. For if we love God above all things, it cannot be but upon the •osse of the relish of his favour, •r taste of his displeasure, our •ouls should be in bitterness, pricked, tormented, wounded, thrust •horow, yea, and swallowed up with desolation. It is a wonder of the world, how we carefully will seek physic, use diet, by any means to avoid a bodily pang, and how careless we •re of the unsupportable fits of •he souls mortal sickness. It is •ot in our power to apprehend •race when we will, and a harder matter is it then we can conceive, to lift up a poor soul cast ••wn with the sense of Gods wrath. If a violent passion may ⟨p. 12⟩so far transport the min•• what may we think of this re• less trembling, when the s• after long tossings, seeth it […] drowned, and wholly ov•• whelmed with the deluge […] sorrow, proceeding from the • verlasting threats, and sha•• and confusion of face in […] presence of the Almighty Consider the body loaden f•• a burden, neither portable […] evitable; and thence gather […] stranglings of an overladen so Consider a man ready to […] from an high Tower unto […] Earth; and thence gather […] estate of another falling fr•• Heaven to Hell with a spiritu•• ruin. Consider a child, wh•• the mother hideth her face fr•• it, and terrifieth it with a B•• boo; and herein take view of […] estate of a poor Christian (wh•⟨p. 13⟩chiefest happiness having therein consisted, (to wit) in being joined, and united to his Heavenly •ather, having now lost his pre•ence, or being affrighted with •he Devil, as if he were ready to ••y hands on him. Consider •he estate of a debtor, cast off by •is best Creditors: and gather •hat of a Christian being bankrupt with his God. Consider •he estate of a man, once in favour, afterwards adjudged to •eath by a Prince, without hope •f pardon or reprieving: and gather that of a Christian, who •fter his citation and arraignment at the Tribunal seat of God, •ands condemned, and is whol•• deprived of obtaining pardon, •nd delivered into the hands of •he Devil. The Lord needs •ot to seek wild beasts to punish •s, or such like cruel executioners ⟨p. 14⟩of his wrath to torment u• he may find enough within us all the furies and Devils cann•• invent a more grievous torment One by it apprehended needeth not more accusers or torment ours.
Our faith is then •ryed in earnest, when as the Lord hideth his face from us. For if we love God above all •hings, it cannot be but upon the •osse of the relish of his favour, •r taste of his displeasure, our •ouls should be in bitternes, prick•d, tormented, wounded, thrust •horow, yea, and swallowed up with desolation. It is a wonder of the world, how we care•ully will seek physick, use dyet, by any means to avoid a •odily pang, and how careles we •re of the unsupportable fits of •he souls mortall sicknes. It is •ot in our power to apprehend •race when we will, and a hard•r matter is it then we can con•eive, to lift up a poor soul cast ••wn with the sense of Gods wrath. If a violent passion may ⟨p. 12⟩so farre transport the min•• what may we think of this re• les trembling, when the s• after long tossings, seeth it 〈…〉 drowned, and wholly ov•• whelmed with the deluge 〈…〉 sorrow, proceeding from the • verlasting threats, and sha•• and confusion of face in 〈…〉 presence of the Almighty Consider the body loaden f•• a burthen, neither portable 〈…〉 evitable; and thence gather 〈…〉 stranglings of an overladen so Consider a man ready to 〈…〉 from an high Tower unto Earth; and thence gather estate of another falling fr Heaven to Hell with a spiritu ruine. Consider a childe, wh the mother hideth her face fr it, and terrifieth it with a B boe; and herein take view of estate of a poor Christian (wh
His many never-though• of sin (as if he stirred a nest […] wasps) come buzzing about h• ears, and as a man indebted once laid hold of, make him faster daily: his loving friends ma• stand by the prison and call him but he being fast fettered, canno• stir forth. You shall see hi• now in his purgatory, (not th• papistical sin-satisfying fict• on, the Popes jail) but that h•• fiery furnace wherein the Lo•• trieth his metal, whether it […] good or reprobate. And su• pose that he had died at t•• worst (as in the Lords justice […] might, to the hardening of tho••⟨p. 15⟩that will not be softened) As no man should rather judge him by •he inch of his death, then the length of his life; so I for my part neither did in him, nor do •n my self so much fear his death, as I did, and do desire his life. You may observe the •ourses which God taketh in visiting his children to be divers: some are comfortable and without any great admixture of discomfort: others heavy, but without horror: others horrible, •et all of them are in the issue gracious. But to leave any further digression, and to come again to the matter in hand.
His many never-though• of sinne (as if he stirred a nest 〈…〉 wasps) come buzzing about h• eares, and as a man indebte• once laid hold of, make him faster daily: his loving friends ma• stand by the prison and call him but he being fast fettered, canno• stirre forth. You shall see hi• now in his purgatory, (not th• papisticall sinne-satisfying fict• on, the Popes jayle) but that h•• fiery furnace wherein the Lo•• trieth his metall, whether it 〈…〉 good or reprobate. And su• pose that he had died at t•• worst (as in the Lords justice 〈…〉 might, to the hardening of tho••⟨p. 15⟩that will not be softened) As no man should rather judge him by •he inch of his death, then the •ength of his life; so I for my part neither did in him, nor doe •n my self so much feare his death, as I did, and doe desire his life. You may observe the •ourses which God taketh in visiting his children to be divers: some are comfortable and with•ut any great admixture of discomfort: others heavy, but without horrour: others horrible, •et all of them are in the issue gracious. But to leave any fur•her digression, and to come again to the matter in hand.
When one came unto him, he •rake out into these words, Oh •ow woeful and miserable is my estate, that thus must converse with •el-hounds! He being with these words strangely moved, went ⟨p. 14⟩[…] ⟨p. 15⟩[…] ⟨p. 16⟩to call some of his best ab•• friends to comfort him. T• them he complained, that t• Lord had cursed him. Being d• manded how he knew it: he answered, Why! the event showeth it. It being replied, The• such and such were cursed: h• answered, I have no grace. Ho• do those then? they once ha• none. I was a foolish glorious H• pocrite; It is against the course […] Gods proceeding to save me, […] hath otherwise decreed, he canno• Put your trust in God. I canno• no more then an horse. Do yo• desire to believe? No more the• a post, then an horseshoe. I kno• you cannot deny but that yo• have sought Gods glory. N•• sincerely. There is a secret mi• ture of pride and hypocrisy, • ven in the best. I have no mo• sense of grace then these curtain ⟨p. 17⟩••en a goose, then that block. Let •he testimony of your life past comfort you, especially in the ••lling of a Tutor. I did the ••sinesse thereof perfunctorily, when […] handled hard Authors, I came •ten unprepared, and read shamefully. Be of good courage, and ••e Lord will comfort your heart. It is ended, there is no ••ch matter. Why do you think •o? You shall see the event, God •ill yet bring it to pass. Tush, ••sh, trifles. What do you think •f your former Doctrine? Very •ood. Let it comfort you. It ••nnot. You desire it could. If […] might. There is nothing unpossible to God. Which stands with •is decree: Oh, oh, miserable, and woeful, the burden of my sin ly••th heavy upon me: I doubt it will •reak my heart. Behold your comforts. Nothing to me, I pray ⟨p. 18⟩you hold your peace, do not trou•• your self idly, you vex me, y• words are as daggers to my hea• Another time some of t•• younger sort said to him, R• member, Sir, the good counse•• that you have given us heret• fore. Those were ordinary. Y•• may see many others in the li•• estate. Not such as mine. S•• David. What do you speak to […] of David? Good Sir, endeavour to settle your mind; Yes, to pl•• with hell-hounds. Will you pray I cannot. You were wont her• tofore. Yes, by a custom and va• glory. Suffer us to pray for yo• Take not the name of God in va•• by praying for a Reprobate.
When one came unto him, he •rake out into these words, Oh •ow wofull and miserable is my e•tate, that thus must converse with •el-hounds! He being with these words strangely moved, went ⟨p. 14⟩〈…〉⟨p. 15⟩〈…〉⟨p. 16⟩to call some of his best ab•• friends to comfort him. T• them he complayned, that t• Lord had cursed him. Being d• manded how he knew it: he answered, Why! the event shewet• it. It being replyed, The• such and such were cursed: h• answered, I have no grace. Ho• doe those then? they once ha• none. I was a foolish glorious H• pocrite; It is against the course 〈…〉 Gods proceeding to save me, 〈…〉 hath otherwise decreed, he canno• Put your trust in God. I canno• no more then an horse. Doe yo• desire to beleive? No more the• a post, then an horsshoe. I kno• you cannot deny but that yo• have sought Gods glory. N•• sincerely. There is a secret mi• ture of pride and hypocrisy, • ven in the best. I have no mo• sense of grace then these curtain
He you may see the glory of G•• preferred before his own salv• tion, rather willing to have t•• means of his salvation neglecte• then the Lord dishonoured. Su••er ⟨p. 19⟩us to pray for our selves. •ook to it, you would now show your faculty in praying. Can you say, Amen? No, but in a certain genial fashion. One prayed, and •n the mean time he rested most quietly. I pray you (saith he, •hen prayer was ended) Go •ence to bed, do not trouble your •lves in vain. Let not the Devil •elude you, abusing your mind •nd tongue, I know you speak •ot these words. I wonder that intelligent Scholars should speak thus. We are persuaded you •re in as good estate as our selves Look how it is with your selves in truth. One that watched with him, asked him, Sir, how can you discern this change by the absence of God, if you never enjoyed his presence? I thought I •ad it once, but now I see it is far otherwise. But God deals with ⟨p. 20⟩you, as he dealt with the Church Isa. 54.7. He forsook it a whil• and hid his face from it, but I returned to it again, and so ([…] doubt) the case stands with yo• Never, add not affliction to the a• flicted; Oh me wretch! groani•• pitifully. Hope no worse […] your self, then we do of yo• All of us have seen clearly whi•• way your carriage was still sen• after the spirit: and we are ass• red that you will come to t•• spirit, howsoever you seem t• have lost your way. To a• particulars he would answer, desire grace generally, I did go•• outwardly, all hypocritically. O• asked him, Do you love such a one? his most dear, and wo• thy to be dear friend. Yes. Why For his goodness. Why then you a Gods child, for by this w• know we are translated fro•⟨p. 21⟩death to life, because we own •e brethren. Many like forcible •oofs he would shift off with is former evasions, and afterwards became more wary against himself, either loth to •rant any thing, or granting it •aggeringly, or, what then? ••aring lest he should be pres•ed, he wished, that some were •ut in mind, 1. Of their great care •or building, and too small care for scholars in them. 2. Their giving so long leave of absence from •he College, and desired amendment.
He you may see the glory of G•• preferred before his own salv• tion, rather willing to have t•• means of his salvation neglecte• then the Lord dishonoured. Su••er ⟨p. 19⟩us to pray for our selves. •ook to it, you would now shew your •aculty in praying. Can you say, Amen? No, but in a certain ge••all fashion. One prayed, and •n the mean time he rested most •uietly. I pray you (saith he, •hen prayer was ended) Goe •ence to bed, doe not trouble your •lves in vain. Let not the Devil •elude you, abusing your minde •nd tongue, I know you speak •ot these words. I wonder that •ntelligent Scholars should speak •hus. We are perswaded you •re in as good estate as our selves Look how it is with your selves in •ruth. One that watched with him, asked him, Sir, how can you discern this change by the •bsence of God, if you never en•oyed his presence? I thought I •ad it once, but now I see it is farre •therwise. But God deals with ⟨p. 20⟩you, as he dealt with the Churc•Isa. 54.7. He forsook it a whil• and hid his face from it, but I returned to it again, and so (〈…〉 doubt) the case stands with yo Never, add not affliction to the a flicted; Oh me wretch! groani pitifully. Hope no worse your self, then we doe of yo All of us have seen cleerly whi way your carriage was still sen after the spirit: and we are ass red that you will come to t spirit, howsoever you seem t have lost your way. To a particulars he would answer, desire grace generally, I did go outwardly, all hypocritically. O asked him, Doe you love such a one? his most dear, and wo thy to be dear friend. Yes. Why For his goodnes. Why then you a Gods childe, for by this w know we are translated fro
After noon came a worthy Governor of a College in our University,1 and requested him •o be of good comfort, and to pluck up his spirit. I cannot. Why can you not? Because I have •o grace, no more then a Backstock. Why do you think so? ⟨p. 22⟩By this affliction. Do you des• grace? I cannot. (He spake m• strongly) I can as well leap ov• the Church. But are you […] sorry that you cannot desire it I cannot. Would you not be Heaven? I would not. O• standing by, said, The De• himself would, if he could. B• the way, you shall have the • pinion of a much resp• cted Minister apposite heret• which he gave in private. […] proud man, saith he, w•• scorn to seek any good fro• his enemy: so the Devils pri•• will not let him think himself beholding to God for Heaven if he might get it. You hav• (said one) the testimony of faith you love the Brethren. I di• not. Do not you love us? No *The Devil now seeth he should be cast into straits, if yo•⟨p. 23⟩•ould grant this; what is it that •oth most trouble you? I un•rtook too much upon me foolishly: had gotten a little Logic and •reek, and meanly instructed in •e rules, did set my self to read to •holars; and afterwards under•ok other business, which distracted •y mind and body from them, I •ave destroyed a thousand souls. •ou may see the falsehood of •m that suggesteth this unto •ou: you never had a thousand: •e puts a false glass before you. •he good effects of your pains •ppears in many of your Scho•rs. Oh they were of themselves capable. Name one in whom •hey do not? There is one. (pointing at a Master of Arts there print) He justified his care of •im, and gave thanks to God •hat ever he came to him. It is •ot so, I did foolishly. You confess ⟨p. 24⟩you did foolishly, therefore not of malice. Again, consider wh• would have become of many them if you had not taken the• Better, far better. All in the C• ledge know the contrary. Bu• feel it. It is false, believe n• the Devil. It is too true. Wh• vvill you make amends? G• will give you your hearts desire Never. Are you sorry that […] vvill not? No, there is no grace my heart: it is dead. Such w• Davids case. What do you co• pare me with him? Behold Chris himself. Nothing to me. Go• can make his death available He cannot. He is omnipotent In me he cannot, because […] stands with his purpose. Who• God loveth once, he loveth t• the end. But he did never love m• You have tasted of his love.
After noon came a worthy Governour of a Colledge in our University,1 and requested him •o be of good comfort, and to pluck up his spirit. I cannot. Why can you not? Because I have •o grace, no more then a Backstock. Why doe you think so? ⟨p. 22⟩By this affliction. Doe you des• grace? I cannot. (He spake m• strongly) I can as well leap ov• the Church. But are you 〈…〉 sorry that you cannot desire it I cannot. Would you not be Heaven? I would not. O• standing by, said, The De• himself would, if he could. B• the way, you shall have the • pinion of a much resp• cted Minister apposite heret• which he gave in private. 〈…〉 proud man, saith he, w•• scorne to seek any good fro• his enemy: so the Devils pri•• will not let him think himse• beholding to God for Heaven if he might get it. You hav• (said one) the testimony of faith you love the Brethren. I di• not. Doe not you love us? No *The Devil now seeth he shoul• be cast into straits, if yo•⟨p. 23⟩•ould grant this; what is it that •oth most trouble you? I un•rtook too much upon me foolishly: had gotten a little Logick and •reek, and meanly instructed in e rules, did set my self to read to holars; and afterwards underok other busines, which distracted y minde and body from them, I ave destroyed a thousand souls. ou may see the falsehood of m that suggesteth this unto ou: you never had a thousand: e puts a false glasse before you. he good effects of your pains ppears in many of your Schors. Oh they were of themselves apable. Name one in whom hey doe not? There is one. (pointng at a Master of Arts there prent) He justified his care of im, and gave thanks to God hat ever he came to him. It is ot so, I did foolishly. You confesse
1Dr Aye• Provost of Queens College.Dr Aye• Provost of Queens Colledge.
*This conclusion was fasten ed on him before, which now he stufts off.This conclusiō was fastē ed on him before, which now he stufts off.
[…] deceived my self in a certain vain ⟨p. 25⟩•lory: I exposed my head to many things, outwardly all. You could •ay the Lords Prayer, and there• call him Father. Hypocritically I was wont to enquire of Ma•ter Mason, what was meant by •bba-father; rather in curiosity, •hen truly to be edified. God will •ive a good issue. Never, I •ave no sense. We will pray •ith you. Do not dishonour •od. It is well that you will •ot have God dishonoured: •ere he sticked, saying, I pray •ouble me not with distinctions. •fter came one, who with vehement action of body, pressed and urged him to trust in •od. I cannot (said he) I can••t, he will not have me saved, •s sentence is passed. Do •ou desire to be saved? •o. Do you desire to desire? •o. Would you be damned? ⟨p. 26⟩No. Look at the sins of ot•• men as great as yours, and […] they are saved. They were good a godly, they found grace: here is […] difference, my sins are horribl• he repeated that towards […] Scholars. All of us know y•• took pains. Outwardly y•• did your best. No. I see no• what it is, you strictly look ba• to your own actions, as a Ju•• ciary, who will none of Go• mercy, and now he hath just met with you, your judgem•• is just. These words affect him strangely: another wil• him to look to it, it seemed n• Popery. Do you hope to […] justified by your merits? I f•• to be damned for my sins. T• other asked, whether he cou•• say, Amen? No. Have y•• no tongue? What is that to […] purpose? Name Jesus, I can•⟨p. 27⟩[…] I had your tongue in my hand, […] would make you speak. Turning his speech to a friend present, ••h (saith he) if you did but feel my ••eif but an hour, you would have compassion. The other replied, If you were in the fire you •ould wish to get out. I had ra••er be in the fire then here. I will •ay for you. Sin not. Let •e fault be mine.
〈…〉 deceived my self in a certain vain ⟨p. 25⟩•lory: I exposed my head to many •hings, outwardly all. You could •ay the Lords Prayer, and there• call him Father. Hypocriti•ally I was wont to enquire of Ma•ter Mason, what was meant by •bba-father; rather in curiosity, •hen truly to be edified. God will •ive a good issue. Never, I •ave no sense. We will pray •ith you. Doe not dishonour •od. It is well that you will •ot have God dishonoured: •ere he sticked, saying, I pray •ouble me not with distinctions. •fter came one, who with ve•ement action of body, pres•d and urged him to trust in •od. I cannot (said he) I can••t, he will not have me saved, •s sentence is passed. Doe •ou desire to be saved? •o. Do you desire to desire? •o. Would you be damned? ⟨p. 26⟩No. Look at the sinnes of ot•• men as great as yours, and 〈…〉 they are saved. They were good a godly, they found grace: here is 〈…〉 difference, my sinnes are horribl• he repeated that towards 〈…〉 Scholars. All of us know y took pains. Outwardly y did your best. No. I see no what it is, you strictly look ba to your own actions, as a Ju ciary, who will none of Go mercy, and now he hath jus met with you, your judgem is just. These words affec him strangely: another wil him to look to it, it seemed n Popery. Doe you hope to justified by your merits? I f to be damned for my sinnes. T other asked, whether he cou say, Amen? No. Have y no tongue? What is that to purpose? Name Jesus, I can
Although my purpose was •rely to relate the passages of •is gracious mans visitation, and […] refer to your spiritual eye •hat you could track and find herein, yet let your gentle con•uction withhold from me the […] served censure of bold blind••s, in that now and then I point […] some things which your •ick sight may sooner or bet•• apprehend. The Devils ma•ious policy was great toward ⟨p. 28⟩him, in that he assaulted h• most strongly in that, whi• might and ought to have be• his greatest comfort. Again, saw that the opinion of the Ph• sician helps somewhat in bod• maladies or diseases, whereas […] that his estate, his soul remain ed as it were uncapable of co• fort from the souls Physician He much respected some fe•• He dolefully poured out his so in the bosom of a well will on this manner; I took upon […] too proudly many things, and be•• negligent, performed nothing: c• sed be the day when I took School If I had not taken them, I had b•• happy; with a great flourish I w• stirring many ways, and in […] mean space left the essence of […] calling, teaching Scholars. Wh•• saith the other, what shall I n• do, when I see you thus tosse•⟨p. 29⟩W•ll, for I was an Hypocrite, and ••w therefore there is no hope of •mfort for me in Gods presence: have no sense of it. The sun […] in the firmament, though it •ay be hid in a cloud. This •mparison agreeth not to me. What ••en would you counsel me to •e? Abide within the bounds of •ur calling: take not too much on •u, and the Lord will bless you. •ill it avail me to hear sermons. •es, if you mean to be saved. What •ood shall I reap thence? No•ing from the bare hearing. oh, •is heavy lumpish fear hath ofttimes shaken me, and now it hath •oken out. Another said, you •ow the poor in spirit are blessed. I am not such. You see you •e empty of all good, you feel •ur burden. I pray you go your •ayes. He turned his head aside, •d stopped his ears: what ⟨p. 30⟩though you have done but lit• good, if you have but give• cup of cold water, &c. He thr• ed him away with his foot, • there (as some thought) be• troubled with his shrill void or (as he replied) through […] Devils subtlety. T•at even he was grievously afflicted Suddenly he brake out; Oh if Go• The standers by endeavoured cherish this good motion, and s• to him, He will give you gra•• I doubt it.
Although my purpose was •rely to relate the passages of •is gracious mans visitation, and 〈…〉 referre to your spirituall eye •hat you could tracke and finde •erein, yet let your gentle con•uction withhold from me the 〈…〉 served censure of bold blind••s, in that now and then I point 〈…〉 some things which your •ick sight may sooner or bet•• apprehend. The Devils ma•ious policy was great toward ⟨p. 28⟩him, in that he assaulted h• most strongly in that, whi• might and ought to have be• his greatest comfort. Again, saw that the opinion of the Ph• sician helps somewhat in bod• maladies or diseases, whereas 〈…〉 that his estate, his soul remai• ed as it were uncapable of co• fort from the souls Physicia• He much respected some fe•• He dolefully poured out his so in the bosome of a well will on this manner; I took upon 〈…〉 too proudly many things, and be•• negligent, performed nothing: c• sed be the day when I took Schol• If I had not taken them, I had b•• happy; with a great flourish I w• stirring many wayes, and in 〈…〉 mean space left the essence of 〈…〉 calling, teaching Scholars. Wh•• saith the other, what shall I n doe, when I see you thus tosse
Then presently • ter he uttered this prayer, God, give me a spark of grace, […] enlarge my heart that it may app•• hend it. He asked a friend, h• he might give satisfaction […] some speeches.
Then presently • ter he uttered this prayer, God, give me a spark of grace, 〈…〉 enlarge my heart that it may app•• hend it. He asked a friend, h• he might give satisfaction 〈…〉 some speeches.
Mr Dod, although he depa• ed on Saturday, and had th• an unseasonable journey, […] being requested by letters, ⟨p. 31⟩•rned on Tuesday following. •e at the first sight started up, as desirous to meet him, Oh Mr Dod, •d in friendly sort complained, have no grace. I will not (saith • r Dod) believe every one that •ith he hath grace, nor every •he that saith he hath none: Answer the Devil as Christ did. A •an must not always be led by •nse; Let us enquire by the effects, and it may suffice, if we can ••nde but one, yea the least it is •ough. You forgive your enemies, and love them, and •ould do them no hurt if you buld? Yes. Then your sins •e forgiven. An Hypocrite •ay give alms and fast, but this •e cannot. That is a small matter. think it to be a great one, yea, ••ch an one that I had need to •ay for; That is put for a rea••n in the Lords Prayer, and if ⟨p. 32⟩Christ had thought any mo• forcible, he would have give it. Sir, that is true, but in th• that are elected. Do not y• put an exception, where G• hath not. I would not hand you as I do, but that I kno• your estate: I come hither cherish you, you love your go• friends? I cannot. Had you r• there that bad or good men shou• be with you? Good. Yet y• say, you do not love them: […] sow will be with swine: There […] no fellowship between light a• darkness. Would you belie• your self, or the Physician touch ing the estate of your body? T• Physician. Believe not your s• then, now you are sick, yet sh•• be restored. It is impossible. Wh• so? If you had sinned so mu• as you could, you could n• have sinned so much as Ada•⟨p. 33⟩yet he is in Heaven. It repented •m. Doth it not you? No. Doth •our sickness or sin more trou••e you, or had you rather ••ve grace, or health? Grace. Well then. But it cannot be. •od will wash you. I have […] water. God will bring it •ith him. He hath denied it. •e hath offered it by his Mi••sters, which are as the buckets to draw and pour it. •ou must not look now that •od should come to y•• himself. Do you think it a small •vour of God that so many •ood friends come to you? •od did send none to comfort •ain or Ahithophel. Think of that ••ying of Manoahs wife, If the •ord would kill us, he would not •ave showed us all these things, ••dg. 13.23. Behold the proper••es of Christs sheep: They are ⟨p. 34⟩1. Weak, 2. Sick, 3. Brok•• 4. Driven away, 5. Lost, EZ•• 34.4.
Mr Dod, although he depa• ed on Saturday, and had th• an unseasonable journey, 〈…〉 being requested by letters, ⟨p. 31⟩•rned on Tuesday following. •e at the first sight started up, as •esirous to meet him, Oh Mr Dod, •d in friendly sort complained, have no grace. I will not (saith • r Dod) beleive every one that •ith he hath grace, nor every •he that saith he hath none: An•wer the Devil as Christ did. A •an must not alwaies be led by •nse; Let us enquire by the ef••cts, and it may suffice, if we can ••nde but one, yea the least it is •ough. You forgive your e•emies, and love them, and •ould doe them no hurt if you buld? Yes. Then your sinnes •e forgiven. An Hypocrite •ay give alms and fast, but this •e cannot. That is a small matter. think it to be a great one, yea, ••ch an one that I had need to •ay for; That is put for a rea••n in the Lords Prayer, and if ⟨p. 32⟩Christ had thought any mo• forcible, he would have giv• it. Sir, that is true, but in th• that are elected. Doe not y• put an exception, where G• hath not. I would not hand you as I doe, but that I kno your estate: I come hither cherish you, you love your go friends? I cannot. Had you r ther that bad or good men shou be with you? Good. Yet y say, you doe not love them: sow will be with swine: There no fellowship between light a darknes. Would you belie your self, or the Physician touc ing the estate of your body? T Physician. Believe not your s then, now you are sick, yet sh be restored. It is impossible. Wh so? If you had sinned so mu as you could, you could n have sinned so much as Ada
You are such, see the• fore your comfort, he […] 1. strengthen, 2. heal, 3. bind […] 4. bring again, and 5. seek y•• You find your self a great de• tor: the Lord hath pardone• only he looks that you sho•• come to him for an acquittan•• This fight is not yours, but […] Lords, 2 Chron. 20.20. put y•• trust in him. If you ask me, h• may I? it followeth, Believe […] Prophets, and you shall prosp•• You may remember that Ch•• did pray for Peter, that his fa•• might not fail, but it failed •• terwards. How came that […] pass? That failing did rath•• strengthen it. For whereas he g• ried that if all should deny Chris yet he would not: had he be•• asked, Doest thou promise t••⟨p. 35⟩[…] thi•e own strength, or by […] he must have answered, •ine, f•• otherwise he would •ve req••••ed his help, making •m hereby to seek to Christ for •e strengthening of his faith. •his happeneth to you, because ••u credit the suggestion of •rnall reason, and not the word •ther. Oh the cunning of •e adversary! deal not with •m by cunning, but hold him to •e Word, seek for strength in •od to resist him. You may •e the Apostles in the tempest, […] was from their weakness that ••ey distrusted, yet of God that •ey prayed. I cannot pray. Here •hat St James saith, Is any man •ck, &c. afflictions further pray••, but most sicknesses hinder: •herefore behold your friends, •hose minds as the Lord hath •irred up to pray for you: so will ⟨p. 36⟩he also stir up himself to he•• them. Their prayers are your• yea, you have the prayers of m• ny which never knew you. A•• as God said to Cain, sin lieth at the door, ready as it were […] do him an ill turn: so his pr• missed blessing doth as it we• expect you. If your salvation were now in your own hand• it is likely you would yield u• all: but your name is written i• the heart of Christ. Sir, let m• watch with you this night. N• Why? because it would hu• you. He (fearing the conclus• on) said, Here is a snatching a• gument: nay rather, I will not su• fer you, because you would trouble m• In the morning M. Dod came • gain to him, and asking hi• how he did, he answered, wretch edly, lamentably, abominably no stamp of grace in me. Do yo•⟨p. 37⟩desire to be eased? Infinitely. Oh if God would give me a drop: I was so foolish that I would always be doing something, but did nothing well. I pray you tell me what was the calling of the good thief upon the cross?
You are such, see the• fore your comfort, he 〈…〉 1. strengthen, 2. heal, 3. binde 〈…〉 4. bring again, and 5. seek y•• You finde your self a great de• tor: the Lord hath pardone• onely he looks that you sho•• come to him for an acquittan•• This fight is not yours, but 〈…〉 Lords, 2 Chron. 20.20. put y•• trust in him. If you ask me, h• may I? it followeth, Beleive 〈…〉 Prophets, and you shall prosp•• You may remember that Ch•• did pray for Peter, that his fa•• might not fail, but it failed •• terwards. How came that 〈…〉 passe? That failing did rath•• strengthen it. For whereas he g• ried that if al should deny Chri• yet he would not: had he be•• asked, Doest thou promise t••⟨p. 35⟩〈…〉 thi•e own strength, or by 〈…〉 he must have answered, •ine, f•••therwise he would •ve req••••ed his help, making •m hereby to seek to Christ for •e strengthening of his faith. •his happeneth to you, because u credit the suggestion of rnall reason, and not the word ther. Oh the cunning of e adversary! deal not with m by cunning, but hold him to e Word, seek for strength in od to resist him. You may e the Apostles in the tempest, was from their weaknes that ey distrusted, yet of God that ey prayed. I cannot pray. Here hat St James saith, Is any man ck, &c. afflictions further pray, but most sicknesses hinder: herefore behold your friends, hose mindes as the Lord hath irred up to pray for you: so will
Do not you think that God can put a distinction between his grace and our corruptions? Behold the Church sometimes helpless and hopeless, and Jonah in that his bed, God seeth you, though you see not him. But I feel horror. Where misery is, there is grace much more: Then especially appeareth the excellency of the Physician, when health is least hoped. The Devil doth abuse your mind and tongue against your self: but doubt not, ⟨p. 38⟩the Lord will cast down the strong holds of carnal reason. Only do not suppress that grace of God, which although it appeareth but small as big as a mans hand, ye• it shall be increased into a• mighty rain, by which your dry soul shall be moistened. Chris• rising again, did first appea• to Mary Magdalen that sinner• after commanded her to tel• it first to Peter, which ha• denied him. See thence hi• mercy. The godly in thei• afflictions do but forget thei• comforts; God helps thei• memory, helps all. Th• godly losing his sense o• Gods favour, is like to […] man that hath lost his purse• which if he could find, h• were rich enough. But th• wicked cannot be brought t•⟨p. 39⟩remembrance, because they never knew it. Thus he suffered him to rest a while, afterwards returning with others, prayed. Then he was asked, how he did. Miserably. Do not you search into the secrets of God. It is too true and manifest. Sir, do not always be digging in at your sins. A wound continually rubbed cannot be cured. Suffer the plasters of the Word of God to rest upon it, that it may be holpen. Oh, if I had! Oh, if it would please God! I had rather then any thing in this or other three thousand worlds. Who now giveth this desire unto you? Of our selves we cannot think a good thought: God giveth both the will and the deed. A desire is a sure ⟨p. 40⟩token. But I cannot truly desire. You do not desire falsely, therefore: truly what do you dissemble? Here is a trick. You must needs distinguish between unperfect desire and hypocritical. Will you know whether your desire be true? There are two signs thereof▪ Constancy, and a conscionable using of the means: You have found these in you, doth this argument hold? You do not feel, therefore you have it not? I know when you would have denied such an argument: If that did follow, it should fare well with the Reprobate, he hath no sense of the wrath of God, therefore he is not under it.
Doe not you think that God can put a distinction between his grace and our corruptions? Behold the Church sometimes helples and hopeles, and Jonah in that his bed, God seeth you, though you see not him. But I feel horrour. Where misery is, there is grace much more: Then especially appeareth the excellency of the Physician, when health is least hoped. The Devil doth abuse your minde and tongue against your self: but doubt not, ⟨p. 38⟩the Lord will cast down the strong holds of carnall reason. Onely doe not suppresse that grace of God, which although it appeareth but small as big as a mans hand, ye• it shall be increased into a• mighty rain, by which your dry soul shall be moistened. Chris• rising again, did first appea• to Mary Magdalen that sinner• after commanded her to tel• it first to Peter, which ha• denied him. See thence hi• mercy. The godly in thei• afflictions doe but forget thei• comforts; God helps thei• memory, helps all. Th• godly losing his sense o• Gods favour, is like to 〈…〉 man that hath lost his purse• which if he could finde, h• were rich enough. But th• wicked cannot be brought t•⟨p. 39⟩remembrance, because they never knew it. Thus he suffered him to rest a while, afterwards returning with others, prayed. Then he was asked, how he did. Miserably. Doe not you search into the secrets of God. It is too true and manifest. Sir, doe not alwaies be digging in at your sinnes. A wound continually rubbed cannot be cured. Suffer the plaisters of the Word of God to rest upon it, that it may be holpen. Oh, if I had! Oh, if it would please God! I had rather then any thing in this or other three thousand worlds. Who now giveth this desire unto you? Of our selves we cannot think a good thought: God giveth both the will and the deed. A desire is a sure
Elizabeth said, Whence is it tha• the mother of the Lord should come unto me? surely from ⟨p. 41⟩their Christian heart. Truly I could hardly have come to you, but that I thought I was bound in conscience, because I know you to be the servant of the Lord: When you were well, if we should have come with proofs out of the Word of the Lord, you would have believed us. Yes. Why not now when your judgement is blinded? Oh, the judgement of God! Call it as •e calleth it, Corrections. Oh, •ny insensible heart! Oh, dead! A dead man cannot perceive himself dead, and God quick•eth the dead. Oh, if he would enlarge my heart! This desire •s good; But it is without savour. God in mercy will •eild you a comfortable relish: Consider I pray you; whereas man may object, The ⟨p. 42⟩Lord is strong and terrible. It followeth, Merciful withal. But I am backward in seeking it. He is gracious, more forward then thou canst be backward: but I have provoked. Him; he is slow to anger: but my sins are great but he is abundant in goodness and in truth. The Lord hath promised that he on hi• part will be our God, an• we on our part shall be his people. For a while he commended him to God: shortly after returning, he prayed with him Cast your burden upon God He hath rejected me. Who mad• you his counsellor? Secret things belong unto God, bu• revealed things unto us: wil• you make Almanacs? He dot• manifest it: Oh mine abominabl• bringing up of youth! he withal ⟨p. 43⟩groaned most deeply. If you had done as well as the justest man, you should stand in need of the merits of Christ. I, or another may bring arguments, but it belongs to the Lord to fasten them on the heart. I say to you as Noah did to Japheth, God persuade Japheth, &c. What if your sins were as crimson, God can make them as snow. That is true of those that are capable. Behold, we make your estate our own, we have part in your sorrow: who hath thus (think you) disposed our hearts? God. And do you think that he which causeth us to love you, doth not love you himself? I fear I did too much glory in matters of private service to God. The nearer we come to God, the more we see our own vileness. This is the use which I make of ⟨p. 44⟩it, blessed be God which hath not put our estate in our own hands, but kept it in his. The Devil hath now winnowed you and you think all is gone out, bu• God holdeth what is his.
Elizabeth said, Whence is it tha• the mother of the Lord shoul• come unto me? surely from ⟨p. 41⟩their Christian heart. Truly I could hardly have come to you, but that I thought I was bound in conscience, because I know you to be the servant of the Lord: When you were well, if we should have come with proofs out of the Word of the Lord, you would have believed us. Yes. Why not now when your •udgement is blinded? Oh, the •udgement of God! Call it as •e calleth it, Corrections. Oh, •ny insensible heart! Oh, dead! A dead man cannot perceive •imself dead, and God quick•eth the dead. Oh, if he would •nlarge my heart! This desire •s good; But it is without sa•our. God in mercy will •eild you a comfortable rel•ish: Consider I pray you; •hereas man may object, The ⟨p. 42⟩Lord is strong and terrible. It followeth, Mercifull withall. But I am backward in seeking it. He is gracious, more forward then thou canst be backward: but I have provoked. Him; he is slow to anger: but my sinnes are great but he is abundant in goodnes and in truth. The Lord hath promised that he on hi• part will be our God, an• we on our part shall be his people. For a while he commended him to God: shortly after returning, he prayed with him Cast your burthen upon God He hath rejected me. Who mad• you his counsellour? Secre• things belong unto God, bu• revealed things unto us: wil• you make Almanackes? He dot• manifest it: Oh mine abominabl• bringing up of youth! he witha
A•• Artificer can distinguish dross• from the metal, cannot God his from yours? Well, with Jo• lay your hand on your mouth and hold your peace, and so goo• rest have you: Only consider your comfort, though it be bu• small, whence it came, even from Gods Word and servants, no otherwise.
A•• Artificer can distinguish dross• from the metall, cannot God his from yours? Well, with Jo• lay your hand on your mouth and hold your peace, and so goo• rest have you: Onely conside• your comfort, though it be bu• small, whence it came, even from Gods Word and servants, no otherwise.
1When he returned again t• take and give farewell, he began to complain: Oh, great an• grievous! The Lord knoweth what power he hath given you A father will put a greater bu• then upon a stronger son. Bu• see the difference. When a ⟨p. 45⟩earthly father or master setteth his on work, they must do it with their own strength; but the Lord setteth on work, and giveth strength to be not discouraged. You are now in your calling: Oh, mine heart is miserable! What then? A father loveth his son as well when he is sleeping, as when he is waking. Sir, I have known you heretofore, and although, if I were in your case, I might do as you do, yet I remain the servant of God, as you certainly are. The Holy Ghost calls to your remembrance what you have heretofore taught, and now heard: And although I shall be absent in body, yet shall I be present in mind. Be not too covetous to seek abundance by and by. If Jacob could say to Esau, I have seen thy face, as though I had ⟨p. 46⟩seen the face of God, much more should you think so of the children of God that come to you. I thank God (saith he) he hath begun to ease me. He will in his good time. God grant. Thus he took his last farewell. Although we depart from our friends in the way, yet we shall meet at the end. One told Master Dod that he had uttered such words. Now the Lord hath made me a spectacle. Whereupon he counselled one that attended on him, to be sparing in admitting comers in, or speakers, lest his brain should be too much heated. A friend of his coming to him, asked him, Dare you murmur and repine against God? Why should I so? God be blessed. It is a sign of grace. But I have no means. You have had them offered. But not given with ⟨p. 47⟩effect. They shall, I doubt not. God grant: but I do not feel it.
1When he returned again t• take and give farewell, he began to complain: Oh, great an• grievous! The Lord knowet• what power he hath given you A father will put a greater bu• then upon a stronger sonne. Bu• see the difference. When a ⟨p. 45⟩earthly father or master setteth his on work, they must doe it with their own strength; but the Lord setteth on work, and giveth strength to be not discouraged. You are now in your calling: Oh, mine heart is miserable! What then? A father loveth his sonne as well when he is sleeping, as when he is waking. Sir, I have known you heretofore, and although, if I were in your case, I might doe as you doe, yet I remain the servant of God, as you certainly are. The Holy Ghost calls to your remembrance what you have heretofore taught, and now heard: And although I shall be absent in body, yet shall I be present in minde. Be not too covetous to seek abundance by and by. If Jacob could say to Esau, I have seen thy face, as though I had ⟨p. 46⟩seen the face of God, much more should you think so of the children of God that come to you. I thank God (saith he) he hath begun to ease me. He will in his good time. God grant. Thus he took his last farewell. Although vve depart from our friends in the way, yet vve shall meet at the end. One told Master Dod that he had uttered such words. Now the Lord hath made me a spectacle. Whereupon he counselled one that attended on him, to be sparing in admitting commers in, or speakers, lest his brain should be too much heated. A friend of his comming to him, asked him, Dare you murmure and repine against God? Why should I so? God be blessed. It is a signe of grace. But I have no meanes. You have had them offered. But not given with ⟨p. 47⟩effect. They shall, I doubt not. God grant: but I doe not feel it.
He received a letter from a friend very respective,1 and much respected of them both: wherein were written these very words: I heard, I know not how true, that our dear Christian friend Mr Peacock is in great danger: which hath much grieved and afflicted my heart, and wrung from me very bitter tears. If his extremities be such, his tentations are very like to be sore. Tell him from me (as one who did ever, with dearest intimateness know and converse with him) that I can assure him in the word of life and truth, from a most just and holy God, whose Minister I am, That he is undoubtedly one of his Saints, designed for immortality, and those endless joys in ⟨p. 48⟩another world. When it was read to him; at those words I can assure him, &c. (he said) Oh, take heed, take heed, do you think he would or durst assure you, unless he knew on what grounds? I did deceive my self, now God hath revealed more. Another time one requested him, that he would make his friends partakers of the least comfort that the Lord bestowed upon him, as they had been partakers of his grief. If I had it, I would willingly communicate it. Search and take notice of the least. How should I have any, since God denieth the means? do you think sense is a fruit of faith? Yes, at this season, although the husbandman hath sown much, yet he seeth nothing above ground. Applications do not prove, hold your peace, my heart is broken. ⟨p. 49⟩Then the promise is yours. I would gladly ask you one thing, Now you will ask twenty. Do you seek for grace in your heart? I cannot. How then can you know whether it be there or no? It is dead. The Lord in whose hand the disposing thereof is, dispose it for your good and his glory. I thank you. What do you think of that place, Whose sins you remit, they are remitted, &c. You know how far they may go. Howsoever, Sir, the bargain is not now to be made between God and you. Shortly after came one whom he much esteemed. Oh I love (said he) your company, for the graces in you, and much more to the same purpose. Suddenly he brake out into this ejaculation, Oh God, reconcile me unto thee, that I may taste one dram of thy grace, by ⟨p. 50⟩which my miserable soul may receive comfort. One secretly willed that man to desire him to repeat it again. Do not trouble me with repetitions. There being a sermon, he bade them about him go thither.
He received a letter from a friend very respective,1 and much respected of them both: wherein were written these very words: I heard, I know not hovv true, that our dear Christian friend Mr Peacock is in great danger: which hath much greived and afflicted my heart, and vvrung from me very bitter teares. If his extremities be such, his tentations are very like to be sore. Tell him from me (as one vvho did ever, with dearest intimatenes knovv and converse with him) that I can assure him in the word of life and truth, frō a most just and holy God, whose Minister I am, That he is undoubtedly one of his Saints, designed for immortality, and those endles joyes in ⟨p. 48⟩another world. When it was read to him; at those words I can assure him, &c. (he said) Oh, take heed, take heed, doe you think he vvould or durst assure you, unles he knew on what grounds? I did deceive my self, now God hath revealed more. Another time one requested him, that he would make his friends partakers of the least comfort that the Lord bestovved upon him, as they had been partakers of his grief. If I had it, I would willingly communicate it. Search and take notice of the least. How should I have any, since God denyeth the means? doe you think sense is a fruit of faith? Yes, at this season, although the husbandman hath sown much, yet he seeth nothing above ground. Applications doe not prove, hold your peace, my heart is broken. ⟨p. 49⟩Then the promise is yours. I would gladly ask you one thing, Now you will ask twenty. Doe you seek for grace in your heart? I cannot. How then can you know whether it be there or no? It is dead. The Lord in whose hand the disposing thereof is, dispose it for your good and his glory. I thank you. What doe you think of that place, Whose sins you remit, they are remitted, &c. You know how farre they may goe. Howsoever, Sir, the bargain is not now to be made between God and you. Shortly after came one whom he much esteemed. Oh I love (said he) your company, for the graces in you, and much more to the same purpose. Suddainly he brake out into this ejaculation, Oh God, reconcile me unto thee, that I may taste one dramme of thy grace, by ⟨p. 50⟩which my miserable soul may receive comfort. One secretly willed that man to desire him to repeat it again. Doe not trouble me with repetitions. There being a sermon, he bade them about him goe thither.
After he called one, and asked him whether the preacher (being acquainted with his course of preaching) did use his accustomed divisions. He told one, Satan had borne him in hand, and had deluded him: to whom the other answered, I hope that God will restore you as before, to glorify him here. No. No. Yea, if you were weaker, I would hope notwithstanding. I desire nothing more. God be thanked, you have laboured carefully for his glory. I would labour after another fashion. In the night he prayed and repeated his belief. And after resting a while, ⟨p. 51⟩he called those that watched with him, Bear witness, I said not, I believe, but in general, and as desiring that I might believe. One coming to visit him, asked him, How is it with you? My mind was grievously puZZled with sundry distractions this night, but now I feel my burden more light, I thank God. He was put in mind of that place, Isa. 54.8, 11, 12, &c. Oh thou afflicted and tossed with tempests, and not comforted; behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and thy foundations with Sapphires; And I will make thy windows of Agates, and thy gates of Carbuncles: and all thy borders of pleasant stones, &c. For a little while I hid my self from thee, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee. He lifted up his eyes: thereupon being asked what the Lord did say to his ⟨p. 52⟩soul, that had long refused comfort? Take heed, be not to• bold, look to the foundation. And then prayed. Lord grant m• the comfort of thy deliverance, and forgive me my foolishness, that I may praise thy name. Then he complained of his idle speeches. Upon the Sabbath day one came to him, willing him to put his hand to a note of certain debts. This is not a day for that. We will go to Sermon. God speed you. Now you cannot go to Church to serve the Lord, I pray him to come to you. Amen. He hardly suffered any to stay with him. At evening one did read something to him in Master Downams warfare, and asked him, do you think it to be true? Yes. Therefore you must not trust your sense: What not such as mine are? But I will not now ⟨p. 53⟩dispute. When they were helping him up and putting on his clothes; upon some occasion one said to him to this effect: A child will not much grieve at the laying aside of an old coat, when he hath anew made, When you shall put on that, there shall be no longer nakedness, the resurrection will amend all.
After he called one, and asked him whether the preacher (being acquainted with his course of preaching) did use his accustomed divisions. He told one, Satan had borne him in hand, and had deluded him: to whō the other answered, I hope that God will restore you as before, to glorify him here. No. No. Yea, if you were weaker, I would hope notwithstanding. I desire nothing more. God be thanked, you have laboured carefully for his glory. I would labour after another fashion. In the night he prayed and repeated his belief. And after resting a while, ⟨p. 51⟩he called those that watched with him, Bear witnesse, I said not, I believe, but in generall, and as desiring that I might believe. One comming to visit him, asked him, How is it with you? My minde was grievously puZZled with sundry distractions this night, but now I feel my burthen more light, I thank God. He was put in minde of that place, Isa. 54.8, 11, 12, &c. Oh thou afflicted and tossed with tempests, and not comforted; behold, I will lay thy stones with faire colours, and thy foundations with Saphyrs; And I will make thy windowes of Agates, and thy gates of Carbuncles: and all thy borders of pleasant stones, &c. For a little while I hid my self from thee, but with everlasting kindnes will I have mercy on thee. He lifted up his eyes: thereupon being asked what the Lord did say to his ⟨p. 52⟩soul, that had long refused comfort? Take heed, be not to• bold, look to the foundation. And then prayed. Lord grant m• the comfort of thy deliverance, and forgive me my foolishnes, that I may praise thy name. Then he complained of his idle speeches. Upon the Sabbath day one came to him, willing him to put his hand to a note of certain debts. This is not a day for that. We will goe to Sermon. God spee• you. Now you cannot goe to Church to serve the Lord, I pray him to come to you. Amen. He hardly suffered any to stay with him. At evening one did read something to him in Master Downams warfare, and asked him, doe you think it to be true? Yes. Therefore you must not trust your sense: What not such as mine are? But I will not now ⟨p. 53⟩dispute. When they were helping him up and putting on his cloathes; upon some occasion one said to him to this effect: A childe will not much grieve at the laying aside of an old coat, when he hath anew made, Whē you shall put on that, there shall be no longer nakednes, the resurrection will amend all.
To those that die in the Lord. No doubt you will dye in him, having lived in him. I have answered you before. But I would not believe you in that case. The next day a friend of his being to go forth of town, asked him, whether he would have any thing with him, for he was to leave him, and knew not whether ever he should see him again here. Look to your calling, that it be as well inward as outward. He counselled another; To be stirring for the glory of God. ⟨p. 54⟩To one standing by, he said. […] am thinking. What? On a for• to get grace. Put your trust in God. So I do. I omit how, and tell you that with great patience▪ he continually submitted himself to advise in any means fo• his good: In putting his temporal estate in order; he deal• mercifully with his poorest debtors, yea, with some which might well pay it. His worthy patro• (for so he often called him) whom for honours sake I name, Sir Robert Harley, sent his man to him with some aurum potabile, together with a book which a Doctor had made in the praise thereof. Coming to him, and asking him how he did, Oh (said he) if it would please God that I might live with him. Anon after he •aid to one, I have been thinking of arguments by which I might ⟨p. 55⟩plead my cause with God, and I •ave found: But what if dying thus, […] should be judged an Apostate? Man is not the Judge at whose Tribunal you must stand or fall. There came in many of our chief Fellows. One of them requested him to make confession of his •aith willingly. But I would •hink of it first. Musing awhile, •e called them. Truly my heart •nd soul have been far lead, and deeply troubled with tentations and stings of conscience: but I thank God they are eased in good measure: Wherefore I desire that I be not branded with the note of a forlorn or Reprobate: Such questions, oppositions, and all tending thereto, I renounce: Now help me, and put me in mind. What do you think of your former doctrine? Most true: In it I have lived, and will dye; I have not ⟨p. 56⟩dealt hypocritically in it. Are you willing to die? Truly I will tell you: my Patron who of late sent me potable gold, hath taken order that I might live with him contentedly in the Ministry: but I submit my self to the will of God. Do you desire the glory of God, and the salvation of your brethren? Most: Help my memory, what more? Do you forgive all wrongs? Yes, and desire that mine may be:
To those that die in the Lord. No doubt you will dye in him, having lived in him. I have answered you before. But I would not believe you in that case. The next day a friend of his being to goe forth of town, asked him, whether he would have any thing with him, for he was to leave him, and knew not whether ever he should see him again here. Look to your calling, that it be as well inward as outward. He counselled another; To be stirring for the glory of God. ⟨p. 54⟩To one standing by, he said. 〈…〉 am thinking. What? On a for• to get grace. Put your trust in God. So I doe. I omit how, and tell you that with great patience▪ he continually submitted himself to advise in any means fo• his good: In putting his temporall estate in order; he deal• mercifully with his poorest debtors, yea, with some which migh• well pay it. His worthy patro• (for so he often called him) whom for honours sake I name, Sir Robert Harley, sent his man to him with some aurum potabile, together with a book which a Doctour had made in the praise thereof. Comming to him, and asking him how he did, Oh (said he) if it would please God that I might live with him. Anon after he •aid to one, I have been thinking of arguments by which I might ⟨p. 55⟩pleade my cause with God, and I •ave found: But what if dying thus, 〈…〉 should be judged an Apostata? Man is not the Judge at whose Tribunall you must stand or fall. There came in many of our cheif Fellowes. One of them request•d him to make confession of his •aith willingly. But I would •hink of it first. Musing awhile, •e called them. Truly my heart •nd soul have been farre lead, and deeply troubled with tentations and stings of conscience: but I thank God they are eased in good measure: Wherefore I desire that I be not branded with the note of a forlorne or Reprobate: Such questions, oppositions, and all tending thereto, I renounce: Now help me, and put me in minde. What doe you think of your former doctrine? Most true: In it I have lived, and will dye; I have not
And now I thank you. Sir, I remember a thing wantonly done towards you, pointing at one present. You sent me a knife for a new-years-gift; and I tied two verses to it, and sent it back: I pray pardon me if any thing— For mine unconsiderate speeches in the time of my tentations, I heartily and humbly ask forgiveness. You did then (saith one) seem to rely ⟨p. 57⟩somewhat upon inherent righteousness, as if you sought in your self whereby you should be saved: Indeed we knew your conversation to be unreprovable: No I dare not affirm it: I trust in nothing but in the name of Jesus. Have you any certainty in him? I would not be pressed to a particular assurance in this grievous agony. We desire you to inform them that shall come unto you of your estate. My unability is great: They then prayed, 1. Giving God thanks, that whereas before they had craved his mercy for his servant, he had heard them, and manifested to his glory, how he never forsaketh his: And besought him, because he knew the malice of the enemy, to perfect his good work, and not suffer him to be tempted above his ⟨p. 58⟩strength. Now, Sir, we tell yo• one thing to your comfort, W• never heard you speak any thing against God or man, thorow• out the time of your visitation• but wholly against your self• I have been bold thus to argue wit• God, If he hath showed mercy t• such and such, why should not […] likewise have hope? He complained once, how, while h• was visiting the sick, (In which work many poor souls foun• the ready mercifulness of hi• heart, and now feel a great want) he lighted upon doubts; which that he might more fully satisfy, when the like might be moved, he studied too earnestly. One brought him a note book which he had lent (Always willing to communicate what he had most private) Here is a book (said he) of great ⟨p. 59⟩pains, &c. To a stranger, a worthy gentleman that came to visit him, he said, The Lord is merciful to me, and I have cause of rejoicing, &c. Afterwards a reverend Governor came to him,1 to whom he complained of his sin and misery. You look not (said he) for any thing in your self. No, for nothing. You would amend if you had space. Oh if I had— Certainly— Think on this. As the Lord hath heard the ejaculations and groans of your spirit in your infirmity, so he will now. If he will be glorified by your life, you shall live; Submit your self to him, let him choose for you. My faith is weak.
And now I thank you. Sir, I remember a thing wantonly done towards you, pointing at one present. You sent me a knife for a new-years-gift; and I tyed two verses to it, and sent it back: I pray pardon me if any thing— For mine unconsiderate speeches in the time of my tentations, I heartily and humbly ask forgivenes. You did then (saith one) seem to rely ⟨p. 57⟩somewhat upon inherent righteousnes, as if you sought in your self whereby you should be saved: Indeed we knew your conversation to be unreproveable: No I dare not affirm it: I trust in nothing but in the name of Jesus. Have you any certainty in him? I would not be pressed to a particular assurance in this grievous agony. We desire you to inform them that shall come unto you of your estate. My unability is great: They then praied, 1. Giving God thanks, that whereas before they had craved his mercy for his servant, he had heard them, and manifested to his glory, how he never forsaketh his: And besought him, because he knew the malice of the enemy, to perfect his good work, and not suffer him to be tempted above his ⟨p. 58⟩strength. Now, Sir, we tell yo• one thing to your comfort, W• never heard you speak any thing against God or man, thorow• out the time of your visitation• but wholly against your self• I have been bold thus to argue wit• God, If he hath shewed mercy t• such and such, why should not 〈…〉 likewise have hope? He complained once, how, while h• was visiting the sick, (In whic• work many poor souls foun• the ready mercifulnes of hi• heart, and now feel a great want) he lighted upon doubts; which that he might more fully satisfy, when the like migh• be moved, he studyed too earnestly. One brought him a note book which he had lent (Alwayes willing to communicate what he had most private) Here is a book (said he) of great ⟨p. 59⟩pains, &c. To a stranger, a worthy gentleman that came to visit him, he said, The Lord is mercifull to me, and I have cause of rejoycing, &c. Afterwards a reverend Governour came to him,
All, you know, are here but in part, you desire notwithstanding to run to that which is perfect: So ⟨p. 60⟩[…] ⟨p. 61⟩[…] ⟨p. 60⟩you may see how low many have been brought, some (said he) have been Idolaters, was not Manasseh such an one? Yes. And behold Gods servants from the beginning of the Bible to the end, they have slipped. Lot had shrewd slips, but yet here the testimony of the Apostle of him; he was just and righteous. You have been wearied and heavy loaden. Yes. For such is the end of Christs coming: your desire is a token of favour: For by how much the nearer we come, the more we thirst. Think now on his loving kindness; he hath begun, and he will finish whom you have served. I did endeavour, but vile imperfections, &c. It is our greatest perfection here, to see our imperfections. Shortly after came to him many young Gentlemen, to whom he ⟨p. 61⟩said, Live in Gods fear, that you may die in his favour: Otherwise the Ox and the Ass will condemn you; I spent my time foolishly and prodigally. You have (said one) remembered that sufficiently; Remember also Christ. That is true, Christ is to be remembered, and our sins to be remembered also.
All, you know, are here but in part, you desire notwithstanding to runne to that which is perfect: So ⟨p. 60⟩〈…〉⟨p. 61⟩〈…〉⟨p. 60⟩you may see how low many have been brought, some (said he) have been Idolatours, was not Manasses such an one? Yes. And behold Gods servants from the beginning of the Bible to the end, they have slipped. Lot had shrewd slips, but yet here the testimony of the Apostle of him; he was just and righteous. You have been wearied and heavy loaden. Yes. For such is the end of Christs comming: your desire is a token of favour: For by how much the neerer we come, the more we thirst. Think now on his loving kindnes; he hath begun, and he will finish whom you have served. I did endeavour, but vile imperfections, &c. It is our greatest perfection here, to see our imperfections. Shortly after came to him many young Gentlemen, to whom he ⟨p. 61⟩said, Live in Gods fear, that you may die in his favour: Otherwise the Oxe and the Asse will condemn you; I spent my time foolishly and prodigally. You have (said one) remembred that sufficiently; Remember also Christ. That is true, Christ is to be remembred, and our sinnes to be remembred also.
The night following, which was Wednesday night, the Sun of Righteousness spread gracious beams at his setting, which were comfortable tokens of a glorious rising. His last swanlike song, as he uttered it, was penned by some as he uttered it. One comforting him by his bead-side some two hours or more before his death, he brake out into these speeches; Quid •e salute mea sentiam expectatis •t explicarem: usque adeo indulget ⟨p. 62⟩Deus ijs quos semel dilexerit, ut eos nunquam deserat, atque ideo me in coelos transiturum pro certo habeo: Felicissima sunt ea vincula in quae me conjecit Deus benignissimus; You all expect that I should declare what I think of my own salvation: God is so indulgent to those whom he hath ever loved, that he never forsakes them, and therefore I am assured I shall go to Heaven: Most happy are those fetters into which I was cast by a most merciful God. One telling him, You have fought a good fight, &c. he said, Expetit, expedit ut contendam ad coelum; Tollite, Tollite, Eripite, Eripite, ut coelum adeam: Deus indulget ingenuitati bonorum. It is requisite, it is requisite that I should contend for Heaven: Take me up, take me ⟨p. 63⟩up, carry me hence, carry me hence, that I may go to Heaven; God doth cherish the ingenuity of the good. Being put in mind of Gods mercy towards him, he made answer: Oh, the sea is not so full of water, nor the Sun of light, as God is of goodness, his mercy is ten thousand times more. Being likewise remembered of Gods goodness towards him, in filling his heart with such comforts, after so great tentations, he said: I do (God be praised) feel such comfort from that: What shall I call it? Agony, saith one, Nay, that is too little: That had I five hundred worlds, I could not not make satisfaction for such an issue. Being moved to lift up his heart in token of thankfulness unto his God, he uttered these words: What, shall I extol the magnificence ⟨p. 64⟩of God, which is unspeakable, and more then any heart can conceive? Nay rather let us with humble reverence acknowledge his great mercy: What great cause have I to magnify the great goodness of God, that hath humbled, nay rather exalted such a wretched miscreant of so base condition to an estate so glorious and stately! The Lord hath honoured me with his goodness: I am sure he hath provided a glorious Kingdom for me. The joy that I feel in my heart is uncredible.
The night following, which was Wednesday night, the Sun of Righteousnes spread gracious beams at his setting, which were comfortable tokens of a glorious rising. His last swanlike song, as he uttered it, was pen'd by some as he uttered it. One comforting him by his bead-side some two houres or more before his death, he brake out into these speeches; Quid •e salute mea sentiam expectatis •t explicarem: usque adeo indulget ⟨p. 62⟩Deus ijs quos semel dilexerit, ut eos nunquam deserat, atque ideo me in coelos transiturum pro certo habeo: Felicissima sunt ea vincula in quae me conjecit Deus benignissimus; You all expect that I should declare what I thinke of my own salvation: God is so indulgent to those whom he hath ever loved, that he never forsakes them, and therefore I am assured I shall goe to Heaven: Most happy are those fetters into which I was cast by a most mercifull God. One telling him, You have fought a good fight, &c. he said, Expetit, expedit ut contendam ad coelum; Tollite, Tollite, Eripite, Eripite, ut coelum adeam: Deus indulget ingenuitati bonorum. It is requisite, it is requisite that I should contend for Heaven: Take me up, take me ⟨p. 63⟩up, carry me hence, carry me hence, that I may go to Heaven; God doth cherish the ingenuity of the good. Being put in minde of Gods mercy towards him, he made answer: Oh, the sea is not so full of water, nor the Sunne of light, as God is of goodnes, his mercy is ten thousand times more. Being likewise remembred of Gods goodnes towards him, in filling his heart with such comforts, after so great tentations, he said: I doe (God be praised) feel such comfort from that: What shall I call it? Agony, saith one, Nay, that is too little: That had I five hundred worlds, I could not not make satisfaction for such an issue. Being moved to lift up his heart in token of thankfulnesse unto his God, he uttered these words: What, shall I extoll the magnificence ⟨p. 64⟩of God, which is unspeakeable, and more then any heart can conceive? Nay rather let us with humble reverence acknowledge his great mercy: What great cause have I to magnify the great goodnes of God, that hath humbled, nay rather exalted such a wretched miscreant of so base condition to an estate so glorious and stately! The Lord hath honour'd me with his goodnes: I am sure he hath provided a glorious Kingdom for me. The joy that I feel in my heart is uncredible.
He made likewise protestation of that which he always before taught against justification by inherent righteousness, and appealing to the knowledge of some there present, what he continually maintained, in that (saith he) I still remain a Protestant. After three chapters read to him, ⟨p. 65⟩Revel. 19. Revel. 21. Rom. 8. Oh, (saith he) They be glorious comforts: Will you have any more read? Yea, a Psalm, if you please, and named the 23. One beginning to read it, he desired that it might be sung: One asking him, Will you sing? Yea, said he, as well as I can. The Psalm being sung, afterwards the 17. of John was read unto him: One comforting him by applying to him that in particular, which Christ in general performed for the good of the faithful, he said, Blessed be God, very often, I am a thousand times happy to have such felicity thrown upon me, a poor wretched miscreant. After a little rest, Lord Jesus (said he) unto thy hands: Lord receive my soul, Lord lift thou up •he light of thy countenance upon me, and be merciful unto me. ⟨p. 66⟩Then very weak he repeated the Lords prayer twice, and his Belief once very plainly, and distinctly with a strong voice, to the great admiration of the hearers: so he slept in the Lord.
He made likewise protestation of that which he alwayes before taught against justification by inherent righteousnes, and appealing to the knowledge of some there present, what he continually maintained, in that (saith he) I still remain a Protestant. After three chapters read to him, ⟨p. 65⟩Revel. 19. Revel. 21. Rom. 8. Oh, (saith he) They be glorious comforts: Will you have any more read? Yea, a Psalm, if you please, and named the 23. One beginning to read it, he desired that it might be sung: One asking him, Will you sing? Yea, said he, as well as I can. The Psalm being sung, afterwards the 17. of John was read unto him: One comforting him by applying to him that in particular, which Christ in generall performed for the good of the faithfull, he said, Blessed be God, very often, I am a thousand times happy to have such felicity thrown upon me, a poor wretched miscreant. After a little rest, Lord Jesus (said he) unto thy hands: Lord receive my soul, Lord lift thou up •he light of thy countenance upon me, and be mercifull unto me. ⟨p. 66⟩Then very weak he repeated the Lords prayer twice, and his Belief once very plainly, and distinctly with a strong voice, to the great admiration of the hearers: so he slept in the Lord.
tossed, turmoyled, dashed aga•• the rocks of despaire, and m•• then in danger of his souls s•• wrack: happy were we if •• ther through frowardnes, 〈…〉 blindenes of judgement, we inconsiderately passe by, or p•• phanely deride Gods jud•• ments, by thinking that they • ther happen casually, or by f•• getting of them suddenly. 〈…〉 we could but rightly discerne 〈…〉 we should finde nothing m•• profitable, then to have the • mage of this gracious (thou•• now afflicted) soul in our hear• Hereby we may see that t• righteous being scarcely save• there is no place for the wicked a•• ungodly to appeare. And tru• we may think that God sent it •• ven for our sake, that we (w•• whom it is too usuall to da• with the Lord) might kno••
⟨p. 11⟩
that it is a fearfull thing to fall in•o his hands.
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⟨p. 13⟩
chiefest happines having therein •onsisted, (to wit) in being joyn•d, and united to his Heavenly •ather, having now lost his pre•ence, or being affrighted with •he Devil, as if he were ready to ••y hands on him. Consider •he estate of a debtor, cast off by •is best Creditours: and gather •hat of a Christian being banker••ut with his God. Consider •he estate of a man, once in fa•our, afterwards adjudged to •eath by a Prince, without hope •f pardon or repriving: and ga•her that of a Christian, who •fter his citation and arraign•ent at the Tribunal seat of God, •ands condemned, and is whol•• deprived of obtaining pardon, •nd delivered into the hands of •he Devil. The Lord needs •ot to seek wilde beasts to punish •s, or such like cruell executioners
⟨p. 14⟩
of his wrath to torment u• he may finde enough within us all the furyes and Devils cann•• invent a more greivous tormen• One by it apprehended needet• not more accusers or torment ours.
⟨p. 17⟩
••en a goose, then that block. Let •he testimony of your life past •omfort you, especially in the ••lling of a Tutour. I did the ••sinesse thereof perfunctorily, when 〈…〉 handled hard Authours, I came •ten unprepared, and read shame••lly. Be of good courage, and ••e Lord will comfort your •eart. It is ended, there is no ••ch matter. Why doe you think •o? You shall see the event, God •ill yet bring it to passe. Tush, ••sh, trifles. What doe you think •f your former Doctrine? Very •ood. Let it comfort you. It ••nnot. You desire it could. If 〈…〉 might. There is nothing un•ossible to God. Which stands with •is decree: Oh, oh, miserable, and •ofull, the burthen of my sinne ly••th heavy upon me: I doubt it will •reak my heart. Behold your •omforts. Nothing to me, I pray
⟨p. 18⟩
you hold your peace, doe not trou•• your self idly, you vex me, y• words are as daggers to my hea• Another time some of t•• younger sort said to him, R• member, Sir, the good counse•• that you have given us heret• fore. Those were ordinary. Y•• may see many others in the li•• estate. Not such as mine. S•• David. What doe you speak to 〈…〉 of David? Good Sir, endeavo• to settle your minde; Yes, to pl•• with hell-hounds. Will you pray I cannot. You were wont her• tofore. Yes, by a custom and va• glory. Suffer us to pray for yo• Take not the name of God in va•• by praying for a Reprobate.
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⟨p. 21⟩
death to life, because we own •e brethren. Many like forcible •oofs he would shift off with is former evasions, and after•ards became more wary a•ainst himself, either loth to •rant any thing, or granting it •aggeringly, or, what then? ••aring lest he should be pres•ed, he wished, that some were •ut in minde, 1. Of their great care •or building, and too small care for •cholars in them. 2. Their giving so long leave of absence from •he Colledge, and desired amendment.
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⟨p. 24⟩
you did foolishly, therefo• not of malice. Again, cōsider wh• would have become of many them if you had not taken the• Better, farre better. All in the C• ledge know the contrary. Bu• feel it. It is false, believe n• the Devil. It is too true. Wh• vvill you make amends? G• will give you your hearts desir• Never. Are you sorry that 〈…〉 vvill not? No, there is no grace my heart: it is dead. Such w• Davids case. What doe you co• pare me with him? Behold Chri• himself. Nothing to me. Go• can make his death availabl• He cannot. He is omnipoten• In me he cannot, because 〈…〉 stands with his purpose. Who• God loveth once, he loveth t• the end. But he did never love m• You have tasted of his love.
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⟨p. 27⟩
〈…〉 I had your tongue in my hand, 〈…〉 would make you speak. Turn••g his speech to a friend present, ••h (saith he) if you did but feel my ••eif but an houre, you would have ••mpassion. The other reply•d, If you were in the fire you •ould wish to get out. I had ra••er be in the fire then here. I will •ay for you. Sinne not. Let •e fault be mine.
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⟨p. 29⟩
W•ll, for I was an Hypocrite, and ••w therefore there is no hope of •mfort for me in Gods presence: have no sense of it. The sunne 〈…〉 in the firmament, though it •ay be hid in a cloud. This •mparison agreeth not to me. What ••en would you counsell me to •e? Abide within the bounds of •ur calling: take not too much on •u, and the Lord will blesse you. •ill it avail me to hear sermons. •es, if you mean to be saved. What •ood shall I reap thence? No•ing from the bare hearing. oh, •is heavy lumpish fear hath oft•mes shaken me, and now it hath •oken out. Another said, you •ow the poor in spirit are bles•d. I am not such. You see you •e empty of all good, you feel •ur burthen. I pray you goe your •ayes. He turned his head aside, •d stopped his eares: what
⟨p. 30⟩
though you have done but lit• good, if you have but give• cup of cold water, &c. He thr• ed him away with his foot, • ther (as some thought) be• troubled with his shrill voi• or (as he replyed) through 〈…〉 Devils subtilty. T•at even he was grievously afflicted Sudenly he brake out; Oh if Go• The standers by endeavoured cherish this good motion, and s• to him, He will give you gra•• I doubt it.
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⟨p. 33⟩
yet he is in Heaven. It repented •m. Doth it not you? No. Doth •our sicknes or sinne more trou••e you, or had you rather ••ve grace, or health? Grace. Well then. But it cannot be. •od will wash you. I have 〈…〉 water. God will bring it •ith him. He hath denyed it. •e hath offered it by his Mi••sters, which are as the buc•ets to draw and pour it. •ou must not look now that •od should come to y•• him••lf. Doe you think it a small •vour of God that so many •ood friends come to you? •od did send none to comfort •ain or Ahithophel. Think of that ••ying of Manoahs wife, If the •ord would kill us, he would not •ave shewed us all these things, ••dg. 13.23. Behold the proper••es of Christs sheep: They are
he also stirre up himself to he•• them. Their prayers are your• yea, you have the prayers of m• ny which never knew you. A•• as God said to Cain, sinne lyet• at the door, ready as it were 〈…〉 doe him an ill turne: so his pr• mised blessing doth as it we• expect you. If your salvatio• were now in your own hand• it is likely you would yeild u• all: but your name is written i• the heart of Christ. Sir, let m• watch with you this night. N• Why? because it would hu• you. He (fearing the conclus• on) said, Here is a snatching a• gument: nay rather, I will not su• fer you, because you would trouble m• In the morning M. Dod came • gain to him, and asking hi• how he did, he answered, wretc• edly, lamentably, abhominably no stamp of grace in me. Doe yo•
⟨p. 37⟩
desire to be eased? Infinitely. Oh if God would give me a drop: I was so foolish that I would alwaies be doing something, but did nothing well. I pray you tell me what was the calling of the good thief upon the crosse?
⟨p. 40⟩
token. But I cannot truly desire. You doe not desire falsely, therefore: truly what doe you dissemble? Here is a trick. You must needs distinguish between unperfect desire and hypocriticall. Will you know whether your desire be true? There are two signes thereof▪ Constancy, and a conscionable using of the means: You have found these in you, doth this argument hold? You doe not feel, therefore you have it not? I know when you would have denyed such an argument: If that did follow, it should fare well with the Reprobate, he hath no sens• of the wrath of God, therefore he is not under it.
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⟨p. 43⟩
groaned most deeply. If you had done as well as the justest man, you should stand in need of the merits of Christ. I, or another may bring arguments, but it belongs to the Lord to fasten them on the heart. I say to you as Noah did to Japhet, God perswade Japhet, &c. What if your sinnes were as crimson, God can make them as snow. That is true of those that are capable. Behold, we make your estate our own, we have part in your sorrow: who hath thus (think you) disposed our hearts? God. And doe you think that he which causeth us to love you, doth not love you himself? I fear I did too much glory in matters of private service to God. The neerer we come to God, the more we see our own vilenesse. This is the use which I make of
⟨p. 44⟩
it, blessed be God which hath not put our estate in our own hands, but kept it in his. The Devil hath now winnowed you and you think all is gone out, bu• God holdeth what is his.
⟨p. 56⟩
dealt hypocritically in it. Are you willing to die? Truly I will tell you: my Patron who of late sent me potable gold, hath taken order that I might live with him contentedly in the Ministery: but I submit my self to the will of God. Doe you desire the glory of God, and the salvation of your brethren? Most: Help my memory, what more? Doe you forgive all wrongs? Yes, and desire that mine may be:
to whom he complained of his sinne and misery. You look not (said he) for any thing in your self. No, for nothing. You would amend if you had space. Oh if I had— Certainly— Think on this. As the Lord hath heard the ejaculations and grones of your spirit in your infirmity, so he will now. If he will be glorified by your life, you shall live; Submit your self to him, let him choose for you. My faith is weak.
