The New Birth, Treatise · Chapter 5
CHAP. V. Shewing the effects of Regeneration.
ANd ſo hauehave you (brethren) the order, and (ſo farre as may be collected out of ſcripture) the manner of the bringing to paſſe of this moſt excellent and wonderfull worke, of a new begetting: by the moſt excellent and wonderfull begetter, the Spirit of truth: and by that excellent and wonderfull ſeede of life, the word of truth.3. The effects of regeneration, which are foure. Now I will declare vntounto you (that which is the third thing I promiſed) the effects that follow hereupon. Not eueryevery particular, (for who can name them? the life of grace abounding in multiplicitie of actions and operations, (as it were eating, drinking, breathing, grieuing, ſtriuing, ſmarting of the ſoule) as the life of nature); but alone ſome principall, and moſt eminent; by the ſeeing of which in it ſelfe, the ſoule of the new borne babe of Chriſt ſhall hauehave cauſe to receiue much comfort. The principall effects therefore of regeneration are theſe foure. Firſt, a ſpirituall combat. Secondly, a good life for all this combat. Thirdly, a knowledge of that good eſtate, whereinto the regenerate is tranſlated. Fourthly, Spirituall growth in thoſe graces, that at firſt were but weake and feeble in the regenerate. For alack, an infant is a very tender thing, and ſo are Gods infants.
For the firſt of theſe:1. The ſpirituall combat with No ſooner doth a Chriſtian begin to draw the breath of this new life, but he findes himſelfe called to fighting euen in the very cradle (as I may ſo ſpeake, and as they fabled of that renowned heathen man). He ſtands in a pitched field of enemies, ſo ſoone as he can goe vponupon the feete of his ſoule; and there hee muſt neuer ceaſe giuing and taking blowes, till hee ceaſe to be in this lower world. Although indeed there be ſome intermiſſion, and relaxation of the ſtrength and furie of the encounter, as it pleaſeth the Lord (that knowes all things) to temper them to his ſtrength, and direct them to his good.1. The Diuell. Firſt the diuell begins to play his part with him; and finding him gained out of his hands, and pulled from vnderunder his tyrannie, muſters vp an armie of tentations, wherewith at leaſt to annoy him; if hee cannot (as hee cannot) preuaile to bring him backe againe to his ſeruitude and thraldome. For when the ſtrong man armed kept his houſe, all things were at quiet vnderunder him: but when he feeles himſelfe bound, and caſt out, and his houſe rifled by a ſtronger then himſelfe, then it muſt needs follow, that hee will beſtirre himſelfe, and lay about him with all the power that he can make. So now the poore Chriſtian (though perhaps but an infant in grace) is violently aſſailed by Satan, (according to his nature) with extreame rage and ſubtiltie. And if it hauehave ſo falne out, that the Spirit of God was faine to batter downe the height of his heart, and make paſſage for himſelfe, with horrible feares and terrors; then Satan labours often to reuiue thoſe terrors, and by infinit cauils and obiections, to make him euen deſpaire of his ſaluation. There is none end almoſt of the diuels ſtriuing in this caſe, but hee will labour continually with new doubts and obiections, to call his ſaluation into queſtion; and to make him thinke, that hee ſhall neuer enioy the quiet poſſeſſion of his heauenly inheritance. Yet againſt all theſe, the Spirit of God ſo ſtrengthens him, that by vertue of the gratious promiſes of God, and by the power of conſtant prayers and ſupplications, he ſupports himſelfe, and ſtill continues to reſt himſelfe vponupon the free goodneſſe of God in Chriſt, notwithſtanding all theſe obiections and ſhakings. Neither yet will Satan reſt here, but is further troubleſome vntounto him, by ſtirring vp innumerable vile ſuggeſtions, to draw him to the committing of ſome moſt notorious ſinnes, perhaps worſe then euer in all his life before; and for his old corruptions, he ceaſeth not to prouoke and incenſe them, with all vehemency, that he may driue him into lewd and hatefull practiſes of ſinne. But againſt theſe ſuggeſtions alſo, he fighteth reſolutely, much indeede vexed and diſquieted with them, but ſtill reiecting & abhorring thē, and beating them back by the word of God (which is his ſword), & by conſtant ſupplications; whereby ſtill he ſettles his ſoule firme and faſt in his holy purpoſes of obedience. I confeſſe, that the diuell is a common enemie to all mankinde, both ſanctified and vnſanctified: and therfore the vnregenerate alſo are much moleſted with him oftentimes, when hee growes exorbitant, and ſeeketh to pull them (by the ſtrength of vtter deſpaire), as it were quicke into hell, and to make them kill themſelues, or doe ſome other moſt groſſe and vnnaturall crime. But Satan is not willing to deale ſo roughly with them, if he could chuſe; for he ſtands euer in moſt danger of loſing them, when hee carries himſelfe towards them, in ſo hard a faſhion. Wherefore he rather flatters, and faunes, endeuouring to rocke them aſleepe ſtill, if hee can, in the cradle of ſecuritie and preſumption. Neither will he ſtorme thus, but when he ſees his aduantage in regard of ſome bodily croſſe or diſtemper; or that he ſees the Lord will needes awaken their ſleepie conſciences. But for the poore Chriſtian, hee would not giuegive him reſt, no not for a day or two, from the moſt horrible feares, and from the fouleſt tentations, whereto his corruption giues any paſſage, or from others more hideous; eſpecially if hee ſee him weake, ſcrupulous, and iniudicious, then hee makes vſe of ſuch ignorance and weakneſſe; and will neuer finde time to make an end of vexing him, but that the Lord himſelfe doth pleaſe to ſound a retraite. Indeede the Lord, by this meanes to keepe downe his pride, and ouer-maſter his ſtrong corruptions, doth giuegive much way to Satans rage: but ſo ſtill, that he forgets not to refreſh him, with ſeaſonable aide of his ſpirit of prayer, and with the ſtrength and comfort of his holie word and promiſes. And in theſe termes ſtands hee with Satan, euer (almoſt) aſſailed and incumbred by him. And beſides this, the fleſh alſo,2. Of the fleſh. as a more dangerous enemie, though not ſo violent, ſteps foorth to incounter him. For though by grace it be wounded and mortified, yet is it not quite and cleane taken away and remoued. Wherefore the corruptions of his heart alſo grow violent in him, luſting againſt the ſpirit, and with a kinde of inſinuating and ſecret inclination, carrying him forward to all the former luſts of his ignorance, and perhaps to ſome that are more loathſome and abominable. Now vnbeliefe, paſſion, luſt, reuenge, wantonnes, worldlines, and all the old diſtempers, will be mouing in his ſoule: and hee ſhall finde himſelfe euer and anon, little leſſe then ready to yeeld vntounto them, and to be quite ouercome by them. But the ſpirit, in this caſe, reuiueth it ſelfe alſo, and luſts againſt the fleſh; ſtirring vp good motions againſt the bad, and holy deſires againſt the vnholy, and vertuous wiſhes againſt the vitious, and heartie prayers and requeſts to God againſt the ſinfull inclinations of the euill heart: ſo that at length his godly purpoſes grow ſtrong, and hee remaineth reſolute, not to worke wickednes, for all his earneſt proneneſſe thereunto. Thus the regenerate findes himſelfe ſtrangely diuided within and againſt himſelfe: Sometimes hee would be ſinfull, and commit ſuch and ſuch wickednes; and yet againe, hauing better thought of the matter, hee would not. At other times hee would caſt away all ſinne, and faine performe all good duties with all conſtancie: but hee findes ſomething within, reſiſting and rebelling, and hee would not be ſo good. But ſtill in concluſion either ſooner or later, the ſanctified part gets the better of the vnſanctified; the deſires and purpoſes of goodneſſe, preuaile againſt the deſires and purpoſes of euil; and hee is ſetled in the holy determinations, that the ſpirit of God doth leade him vntounto. His heart is euen a pitcht field of contrary deſires; the bad often grow very ſtrong and vehement, and able almoſt to ouerthrow and chaſe away the good. But the good gather head againe, and beate backe the bad; and by the ſpirit hee mortifies the fleſh, and by the word of God and prayer ſubdueth and crucifies thoſe carnall affections of his. I confeſſe there is a miſerable ſtirre, & a troubleſome diſcord, in the ſoule of an vnſanctified man, betwixt the light of the conſcience, and the corruption of the will; this haling him forward to diuers wickedneſſes, and that drawing backe: but the difference betwixt the naturall combat, and the ſpirituall, is ſo manifeſt, that no good man, which hath felt them both, can chuſe but ſee how to diſtinguiſh them one from the other.The d fference betwixt the cō bat of the fl ſh and ſpirit, and the oppoſition of the conſcience & the corrupted will, in the vnregenerate. Indeed they are euidently diſtinguiſhed in fiue things: 1. In the faculties that oppoſe each other. 2. In the things about which they quarrell. 3. In the motiues of the oppoſition. 4. In the meanes of reſiſtance. And fifthly, in the iſſue thereof. Firſt, in the vnregenerate the will is wholly carried after ſin, alone the conſcience makes a clamorous gainſaying, and ſuffers not the will to goe on in its euill courſes vncontrolled. He would with all his heart commit wickednes, but hee dares not: not ſo the regenerate. In him not the conſcience alone ſtands out againſt ſinne, but the will it ſelfe is diuided, in part hanging one way, in part another. Hee would not doe euill, not alone hee dares not; and the act of the will ſetting againſt its owne corruption, by its owne holineſſe, is farre different from the act of the conſcience, oppoſing the will that remaineth wholly corrupted. See it in a compariſon: An hungry dogge hath a ſtrong appetite to be deuouring ſome meate that ſtands before him: but at the ſame time he ſees a man ſtanding by with a cudgel to ſtrike him if he touch it. Now his appetite is altogether to the meate, but he is feared and ouer-awed by the ſight of the man that is ready to ſtrike him. So is it with the vnſanctified man, ſinne is his foode, his will is wholly carried to it; but the conſcience holds as it were a cudgell ouer him, threatning to ſtrike, if he taſte. Wherefore, what with a full deſire he would do, he forbeareth in act to performe, affrighted by thoſe clamours. But now a man diſeaſed, ſees ſome foode to which his appetite inclineth: but he knowes it hurtfull for his body, and therefore, though his will, drawne by his ſenſes, ſometimes moue him to be taſting; yet the ſame will, informed by reaſon, doth preuaile in him to be vnwilling, and out of ſuch vnwillingnes to forbeare. So is it with the godly man: His will ſtands to ſinne, for the pleaſure or profits ſake in ſome part: but being better taught by Gods ſpirit, of the ſinfulnes thereof, his owne will checks it ſelfe, and hee ſets vp his reſolution not to meddle with it. So is this point of difference made plaine; not to be willing to doe is another thing, then not to dare. In the former the will bridleth and holdeth-vnderunder its owne inward motions, and not alone the outward act: in the latter the motions of the will hauehave a free ſcope, but alone the outward act is reſtrained. Further, in the things whereabout the ſtirre is, they differ very much. For the conſcience of the vnſanctified, makes reſiſtance to their will, alone (vnleſſe in caſe they be vnderunder terrors of conſcience) in ſome more groſſe, notorious, palpable, and vnaccuſtomed ſinnes; which are commonly ioyned with ſhame and reproch in the world, and are not likely committed but by thoſe that are infamous amongſt men: as in periurie, murther, adulterie, theft, falſe witneſſe bearing, and ſuch like. For ſmaller euils, and ſuch as the world little accounts of, though knowne and confeſſed to be ſinnes, the naturall conſcience is content to diſpenſe, and dawbe, and daily, and giuegive eaſie way to the doing of them, vponupon a thouſand fond ſhifts and pretences: but now the regenerate mans wil (ſo far as it is regenerate) is in combat againſt its owne vnſanctifiednes, about eueryevery knowne euill, the little as well as the great; that that is allowed in the common practiſe of the world, as well as that that is diſallowed. For of him it is truly ſaid, that hee worketh none iniquitie. Thirdly, the naturall conſcience vſeth the motiues (or reſtraints rather) of feare, of ſhame, of danger amongſt men, at the beſt and moſt, of deſtruction and damnation from God: and by threatning theſe things, (ſometimes ſomewhat terribly) it ouer-aweth the motions of the will, from conſenting to act, though not to deſire. But in the regenerate will, the arguments of reſiſtance are fetcht from God, and from Chriſt, from the louelove of God, from the death of Chriſt, from th… ſcandall of religion, from the diſhonour of the name of God, from the Lords being diſpleaſed with ſinne; and not onelyonly, barely, or chiefly, from the puniſhment of ſinne. Fourthly, the conſcience of the vnſanctified driues him not to prayer, to the word, to ſpirituall meditations, as weapons, whereby to mortifie euill luſts, and to reſtraine the will from conſenting; only it followes him with its owne vehement checks and reluctations, in diuers troubleſome and confuſed thoughts. But the ſanctification of the will oppoſeth its corruption, by prayers, by the word, by the blood of Chriſt Ieſus, and by the hopes of eternitie. For hauing this hope, hee purgeth himſelfe as Chriſt is pure. So the vnſanctified man, when he would doe euill and dares not, is toſſed and tumbled from place to place, now thinking of one thing, now of another, wiſhing to follow his owne inclinations, but wanting boldneſſe; and if hee doe any thing to help himſelfe, it is to get him into ſome company, that perhaps may eaſe him a while. But the ſanctified, when he findes this diſtraction of his will, vſually ſeekes out ſome ſecret place; tels himſelfe of Gods commandement, of Gods louelove, of Chriſts ſuffering for him; asketh himſelfe, if he can finde in his heart ſo much to offend ſo good a Father, ſo perfect a Sauiour: and then falling downe, telleth the Lord how wicked he findes himſelfe, what foule deſires are ſtirred in him, and how weake he is to make reſiſtance; he beſeecheth God to pull out this pricke of his fleſh, to ſtrengthen him againſt theſe wicked deſires, and to eſtabliſh his heart in a ſincere purpoſe of obedience, by his holy ſpirit, and ſo riſeth vp confirmed. Thus (I ſay) he doth vſually and ordinarily, though ſometimes the ſuddenne… of occaſions hinders him that he cannot; and ſometimes his owne neglect of dutie hath ſo eſtranged him, that he findes no power ſo to doe: in which laſt caſe he is often foyled, in the former not ſo often. Laſtly, the conſcience, if it take the foyle once or twice, is benumbed and ſilenced. Sometimes it ſuffers its mouth to be cleane ſtopped, by ſome idle ſhift and vaine diſtinction, which the wit (that in many men is too good for their conſcience) hath inuented for the iuſtification of euill: and after ſome ſuch paultry defence or apologie, a man is ſuffered to ſinne freely enough. But if the thing be neuer ſo vniuſtifiable, yet after two or three times doing it, the heart is hardened, the naturall conſcience put to ſilence; and a mans checkes grow faint, or none at all, vntill ſome croſſe come, or ſome immediate hand of God to ſet it on working againe. For why? the vnſanctified man, as he did not beg grace to hold him vp before his ſinne; ſo neither after, hath any heart to goe and confeſſe it, and craue the ſpirit of repentance; but either lets it paſſe, or falles to extenuate and excuſe it, vnleſſe (perhaps) it grow deſperate, as in Iudas. But now the ſantification of the will, doth ſtill get the victory, though it may receiue a foyle. It will not bee put downe; it will not be vanquiſhed: yea eueryevery latter time of offending, it is more vehement in its oppoſition then before: at leaſt ſo farre as to make a man appeare more vile and abominable to himſelfe. So it brings him into Gods preſence againe, ſooner or later; and makes him ſay, Lord I hauehave done exceeding fooliſhly! but ah, doe away the ſinne of thy ſeruant, for thy Sonnes ſake; and Lord through thy grace helpe me, that hereafter I may offend no more. Thus commonly he doth quickly renue his repentance, and the ſpirit wins the field of the fleſh; though it were ſomewhat diſaduantaged, and made to recoyle backe at firſt. For ſtronger is the ſpirit that is in vsus, then that, that is in the world: grace is alwaies in concluſion more auailable then naturall corruption. Yea, when Gods children are moſt deeply caſt (through preſumption of ſinning) into the ſownes of deadneſſe, ſecurity, and vnconſcionableneſſe; yet then ſtill they heare a voyce behind them ſaying, This is the way, walke in it. Then the ſanctification of the will ſhewes it ſelfe, in many motions and riſings againſt the euils that they doe, and by renewing in them the purpoſes of amendment; though theſe purpoſes, perhaps (in caſe of great preuailing of corruption) be ſo weake and feeble, that they be not put in practice, any thing thoroughly, till God ariſe to weaken corruption, and to ſtrengthen grace: and then he weepes, and prayes, and recouers himſelfe, reſoluing to ſinne ſo no more, and ſtanding to his reſolutions. And ſo fareth a poore Chriſtian within himſelfe. There is a ciuill warre in his very boſome, and his bowels be ſomtimes little leſſe then rent aſunder with inteſtine diſcord, betwixt himſelfe, and himſelfe. Hee is no longer one, but two men, the old, and the new; deadly enemies, dwelling both in one roome. He findes two lawes in his heart, the law of his fleſh, and the law of the ſpirit; that drawing him captiue to ſinne, and this helping him out of that captiuitie. He ſerues God in one part of his will, and ſinne in the other; not meaning this laſt of ſuch a ſeruing of ſinne as was before his new birth, but ſome kind of ſeruing, euen a doing of that ſometimes that ſinne doth perſwade, though vnwillingly and againſt the haire. Neither yet is this all; for as within hee is thus perplexed;3. The world. ſo can he not long be free from diſquietment without. The third enemy ſtands vp quickly, and that is the world; and that hates him, malignes him, abhors him, cannot away with him. When once ſome glimpſe of Gods image ſhineth in him, then worldly men perceiuing it, if they were his friends, turne foes. They thinke and call him a foole; they ſay he is either proud, or ſtout, or mad, or all. After a while alſo come ſlanders, as it were ſtronger and ſharper weapons: then (if the times will giuegive leaue) his enemies growing in rage, as he growes in goodneſſe, hee meetes often with loſſe of goods, baniſhment, and euen death it ſelfe. So the world tries, what ſhe can doe by violence, if that way ſeeme the fitteſt courſe of pulling him backe againe into her ſociety: but if the caſe bee ſuch, that that way ſeeme not at firſt ſo plauſible, the world aſſaults him with ſtrong allurements; his friends and neighbours will perſwade him to returne to bee himſelfe againe: he ſhall hauehave large offers of friendſhip, and of gaine. Many entreaties, many promiſes, many aſſurances, and many performances of good turnes, as ſtrong baits, are held out before him, to diuert him from the wayes of godlineſſe. And theſe fairer aſſaults often hurt him much more, then the more violent; but yet ſtill his faith is his victory, by which he ouercomes the world. The aſſurance that he findes in himſelfe of Gods eternall louelove, and the ſweet effects therof makes him to diſdaine theſe ſugred allurements, and to ſtand ſtrong againſt thoſe bitter encounters; flatter they, or frowne they; doe him good, or doe him euill, ſtill hee holds himſelfe to this concluſion, hee will not leaue God, to cleaue vntounto the world againe. Thus you ſee how the regenerate man is laid too, on eueryevery hand, within, without, on eueryevery ſide. There is no day in a yeere, no houre in a day; nay verily, ſcarce any minute in an houre, wherein ſome one or other of theſe his backe friends, doth not ſtriue to doe him a ſpight. The worſt enemie is within himſelfe, the next is the diuell, and the world the leaſt. Theſe welcome him in this manner, into the City of God. Thus they entertaine him into the ſociety of Chriſts myſticall body. But in all theſe things he is an excellent conquerour, yea verily more then a conquerour, through him that hath loued him: for he is out of all danger, of euer being quite ouercome. Wherefore notwithſtanding all the trouble of this firſt effect of grace;2. A good life. the ſecond will follow the firſt, and that is, a good conuerſation. A man would imagine, that the forenamed incumbrances ſhould ſo farre diſcourage his heart, to whom they befell; as to take from him all boldneſſe, ſo much as to attempt a good courſe. And indeed ſo it would, were he not continually led and ſtrengthened by the ſame ſpirit, that at firſt regenerated him. But by vertue of that diuine aſſiſtance, it comes to paſſe quite contrary: for thoſe enemies doe but quicken and further his proceedings in goodneſſe; and in ſpight of them all, let earth and hell and his owne heart, doe the worſt that euer they can, hee is able to liue godly in Chriſt Ieſus. He is inabled both to leaue euill, and to doe good (for both theſe parts of a good life muſt be had, or elſe indeed the life is not good); and that in a good meaſure and quantitie, and farre better then euer he could doe, in former times. Indeed he doth neuer ſatisfie himſelfe in this matter, but alwaies falleth farre ſhorter then his owne deſires aſpire vntounto: but were the former luſts of his ignorance, compared to that his preſent behauiour, a blinde man might perceiue the difference to be exceeding great. For as to the firſt part of a good life, which ſtands in leauing off wickedneſſe, hee commeth ſo farre; not, as to be quite free from all ſinne (ah this life were a little heauen vntounto him, if he could once attaine to ſuch freedom); but indeed he cannot attaine it here, for in many things (ah that word many is too true a word), I ſay in many things we ſin all; and they be quite beſides their Chriſtian wits, that imagine once repenting, to be ſufficient for a Chriſtian man, in all his life: but yet ſo farre hee comes, as to forſake the ordinary practiſe of groſſe ſins, and the allowance of all knowne and vehemently ſuſpected ſins. So ſoone as euer a Chriſtian is truly regenerate, ſo ſoone he ceaſeth to make a trade of ſinning. Hee that is borne of God ſinneth not, neither can ſin, in this manner. He may ſlip into faults of groſſe nature, once, twice, many times, (ſin cleauing ſo faſt vntounto him as it doth), but ſtill it is not his vſuall practiſe ſo to tranſgreſſe. For in truth, now ſin is become vnnaturall to him, and as contrarie to the life of grace beſtowed vponupon him, as poyſon is contrary to his naturall life; and as bitter things are to his taſte, and harſh ſounds vntounto his eare: wherefore his ſoule riſeth againſt it, and he doth much more frequently ouercome the tentations by reſiſtance, then is ouercome of them. Sins, I meane groſſe and grieuous ſins, are to him as deadly wounds to his body; which ſometimes (as a man in a frenzie) hee is drawne to giuegive himſelfe, but vſually hee doth not ſo. And when hee doth ſo, the manner is exceedingly different from his former courſe. Then hee committed it with greedineſſe: now with great and continuall reluctation. Then hee kept in himſelfe a purpoſe of ſinning, if he could for feare of ſhame or danger: now his heart ſtands conſtantly reſolute not to ſinne. Then he followed after the occaſions of ſinning: now hee flyes farre from them. Then hee ſhifted, and excuſed himſelfe, hauing committed ſinne: now hee becomes a moſt bitter and ſeuere cenſurer of himſelfe for ſinne, if hee doe commit it. Hauing falne, he riſeth againe, and with anger indites and arraignes himſelfe before the Lords tribunall. There hee poureth foorth many bitter lamentations, and could almoſt finde in his heart to throw himſelfe downe to very hell for it. He thunders out againſt his owne heart, all the bitter curſes and threatnings of the Law; and is euen almoſt willing, that God ſhould euen damne him for it, but that he hopeth, for his merciemercy ſake, hee will not ſo doe. And ſuch is his freedome from groſſe ſinnes, that are againſt the plaine light of nature, or expreſſe words of the Law, and wherein the members of the body are giuen as weapons of vnrighteouſnes. He falls into them, if at all, yet ſeldome, and ſeldomer and ſeldomer, with an horrible ſtrife, with great anxietie, with little or no content; and with a moſt vehement condemning of himſelfe, before the face of God, in ſecret, afterwards. Thus vnleſſe (perhaps) hee bee caſt into a ſowne for a time, and cannot yet riſe againe: which if hee be, hee fares all that while as a man that hath a thorne in his eye, or wound in his ſides, neuer at reſt, neuer quiet, filled with bitter and intollerable anguiſh, and full of wofull and continuall complaints. For ſtill he heareth the voyce behinde him ſounding in his cares, and ſaying, this is not the way. And ſtill the anoynting that he hath receiued doth ſo preſerue him, that he cannot ſinne, meaning, giuegive himſelfe ouer to a ſetled reſolution or practiſe of ſinne. And yet further, for ſinnes of a leſſe grieuous nature, euill motions, ſudden paſſions, dulneſſe and diſtractions in good things, and the like: God knowes, and he knowes, that he commits full many of them. But alwaies hee is ſo vpright with God, that hee allowes them not. Hee doth not extenuate them, he doth not ſhift them off with a piſh; hee doth not runne ouer them as matters of nothing, hee doth not let them paſſe vnobſerued and vnregarded, as in former time, and as it is with vnſanctified men. But they be vntounto him matter of conſtant and daily ſorrow and ſhame and humiliation. He confeſſeth them daily, he prayes againſt them daily, and he is continually in a quarrell with himſelfe, becauſe he cannot be ſo free from them as he deſireth. So it comes to paſſe that he purgeth himſelfe as Chriſt is pure, ſo farre preuailing againſt theſe ſinnes, that hee commits fewer of them, and commits them ſeldomer, & ſees them with more diſlike of himſelfe, and growes by them more meane and baſe in his owne eyes, and is made by them more carefull to ſue vntounto the Lord Ieſus, and to take more ſtedfaſt hold of his merits. So hee caſteth off the old man, as concerning the conuerſation in time paſt, and that euen out of his new nature; not moued thereto by reward, or puniſhment; either alone or principally, but by a kinde of naturall working of grace in him: but (indeed) it is a ſupernaturall nature poured into him from aboue; by which it comes to paſſe, that as S. Iohn ſaith, he cannot ſinne, he knowes not how to work wickedneſſe, he cannot finde in his heart to be a ſlaue to ſinne any longer. Company or no company, ſeene of men or not ſeene, danger or no danger, ſhame or no ſhame, puniſhment or no puniſhment, ſtill he is auerſe from ſinne in his regenerate part; he wils not to doe it, he ſhunneth it, he bewaileth it, one or both: that ſo it may be manifeſtly ſeene, there is a contrariety betwixt his very ſoule and all ſins, that hee knoweth to be ſins. And for thoſe that are not knowne to him; hee is not ignorant of them, becauſe he will not know them, with neglect of the meanes of knowing, or with a wilfull reſiſtance of them: but alone becauſe he cannot know them, either for want of meanes to know, or capacitie to conceiue of, or light to ſee the truth offered. Hee doth not winke with his eyes, he doth not ſet himſelfe to finde out ſhifts, to bury the light that beginneth to appeare, and to hold downe the truth in vnrighteouſnes; ſtriuing not to know ſinne, becauſe he would not leaue it, and out of a purpoſe to practiſe it, for the profit or pleaſure of it; ſtill labouring to hauehave ſomewhat to ſay in its defence, and to elude and ſhift off whatſoeuer may be ſaid againſt it: but he is willing to know, deſirous and ready to yeeld, and when the light begins to ſhine within, he quickly opens his eyes to behold the ſame; and if he ſuſpect it, he lookes more narrowly into it, with a ſincere purpoſe of being conuinced, if the truth appeare vntounto him. And this is the firſt part of a good life. The ſecond, and as neceſſary as the firſt, is doing of good, wherein hee is carefull to exerciſe himſelfe; and though all be not alike fruitful, yet eueryevery regenerate man is fruitfull in ſome degree. The life of grace hath its gratious effects, as well as the life of nature its naturall: and hee that hath the former, is as kindly and freely carried to the one, as he that hath the life of nature, to the other. By the ſupernaturall life of God that is in the ſanctified man, it is naturall to him, to ſpeake to God in prayer, to heare from God in the Word, to conferre with God in holy meditations. Wherefore theſe things hee findes himſelfe inwardly moued vntounto, and hee cannot chuſe but be conſtant in them. If at any time his wicked fleſh hinder him from them (as ſickneſſe makes a man ſometimes that hee cannot eate his meate), then doth hee feele, as ſenſible a miſſe of them, euen as of his meales; and he could be as well without foode, as without theſe exerciſes: for in truth they are the foode of his ſoule, and he reliſheth them as foode, though ſometimes leſſe then at other times, as the diſeaſes of his ſoule grow more or leſſe within him. Further, merciemercy, iuſtice, liberalitie, truth, diligence, and other vertues, are now natural vntounto him as well as religion. He takes comfort in doing the duties thereof, and makes conſcience of doing them, as he hath occaſion. Indeed ſometimes he findes a great loathneſſe and backwardneſſe, as a man that is lame, limps and goes ſoftly and with paine; but yet he goes, and hee muſt needs goe, and for all the loathneſſe, hee cannot be well vnleſſe he addreſſe himſelfe vntounto them. Often he hath little mind to pray, and doe other religious duties; but then alacke, he finds himſelfe (as wee ſay for the body) not well at caſe, and hee hath ſomething within him, that puts him forward, that preſſeth and vrgeth him, and cauſeth that he muſt doe them, though with much weaknes, and reſiſtance of his fleſhly hart; for in part it is ſtil fleſhly. If he hauehave neglected a work of mercy, he is not wel after it, and he is inwardly grieued for it, and reſolues to take the opportunitie better next time. If he hauehave not followed his calling diligently, he is vexed at heart to thinke of it, and that day is a day of little comfort, that night a night of little reſt vntounto him. So, if he hauehave omitted admonitions, exhortations, good conference, or any other part of good life. Not alone one, but all good duties, both of the firſt and ſecond Table, ſo farre as his knowledge extendeth, begin to bee to him naturall and familiar. Hee takes a ſecret and a ſweet delight in doing them, & he finds himſelfe exceedingly diſcontented with himſelf, if he doe them not; and therefore commonly though he come farre ſhort of what he would and ſhould, yet there is no day without a line; ſome or other good worke he doth daily, herein indeede exceeding al that himſelfe was able to doe before, or that vnſanctified men can attaine to; that, what he doth, he doth it, becauſe God would hauehave him doe it; and his heart doth often actually incline it ſelfe to the will of God, and moue it ſelfe to the duties, with minding it ſelfe of the good pleaſure of God. It is not companie; it is not applauſe, nor credit, nor gaine, which ſweyes him; if all theſe things were away; yea, if all theſe things were againſt him, yet he would doe good: for he knowes, that Gods wil is his guide, and that is the thing he deſireth to accompliſh in his very ſoule. And further, though he be like a young Artificer, that vſeth his tooles ſomwhat vnskilfully, and doth his buſineſſe ſomewhat bunglingly; yet the Scriptures, the Word of God, they bee his line and his leuell, and according to the direction, either ſpecial, or general, which he receiueth from them, he ſtriueth to frame his life and actions. So is the true Conuert godly in life; groſſe ſinnes vſually he commits not; the ſmalleſt knowne ſins he euer diſ-alloweth, condemneth, confeſſeth before God in ſecret; and ſuſpected ſins he labors to know, and for feare auoideth; and vnknowne ſins he is ready and willing to know. Al and all maner of good duties (though ſome he finds more hard and difficult, and himſelfe more backward vntounto them; yet I ſay, all, and all manner of good duties) he reſolueth to do, and ſtriueth to do; and either doth them, or is afterwards very angry with himſelf, for not hauing done them; ſo that his life is to his own feeling, but a very death, if he find it to hauehave bin vnprofitable: & which is much to be marked, he is heartily glad to ſee, that others can do the good that he cannot, or can do it better then himſelf.3. Knowledge of this good eſtate. So you hauehave the ſecond effect of regeneration: the third followes, and that is a knowledge of this his good eſtate. The man regenerate, vnderſtands himſelf to be regenerate, as the man that liueth & walketh, that he liueth and walketh. So S. Iohn tels vsus plainly,1. Iohn 3.14. We know that we are tranſlated from death to life. Loe, I ſay, an aſſured word of knowing, vſed by the Apoſtle. But how knowes he it? euen by a moſt infallible knowledge, grounded vponupon the perceiuing of the effects of a ſpiritual life: as hee knowes, that he is a liuing man, and not a carcaſſe, by feeling in himſelf the manifeſt effects of this common life. For in very truth, ſpirituall life can no more be hidden, then naturall. Can that admirable change, that cumberſome combat, that ſo far from former times differing, life be found in a man, and he not know of it? Can a blind man become ſeeing, and he not know it? Can a deafe man heare, a lame man go, a ſicke man become whole, a dead man liue, and not know of theſe alterations in themſelues? It is vtterly impoſſible, that ſuch things ſhould be hidden from him in whom they be: & the taking away of blindnes, deafenes, dumbnes, lamenes, death, from the ſoule, is to him in whom it is, no leſſe manifeſt and euident, then the remouing of theſe bodily infirmities. And therfore S. Iohn ſaith,1. Iohn 2.13. I write vntounto you babes, becauſe you hauehave knowne the Father, meaning with a knowledge of acquaintance, whereby they conceiue him to be their father; ſuch as little children (to whom he alludeth) hauehave of their fathers and mothers that they be theirs. In truth the Chriſtian man finds in himſelfe, ſomething within him, ſealing him vp to life: he hath an earneſt penny that makes the bargain ſure betwixt the Lord and his ſoule. He cannot but call God Father, and often (though not alwaies) in calling him ſo, he euen feeles him ſo alſo. He hath an inward & a ſure certificate of his reconciliation with his diſpleaſed Lord. And if doubts doe ariſe (as I told you before that they would, and that right often, and very troubleſomly: for the diuel wil caſt thē in, thick and threefold, and with great violēce), theſe his very doubtings driue him to his father to be reſolued of his doubts; by which meanes it comes to paſſe, yt as a truth is much cleared, by making & anſwering obiections, ſo his aſſurance is cōfirmed by theſe doubts. Indeed an infant at firſt, hath not ſo much knowledge, or vſe of reaſon, as to conceiue of his owne life: but when ſome daies are paſt, and himſelfe becomes ſtronger, then doth he wel enough know that he liueth: ſo in the infancy of regeneration, the regenerate can ſcarce tell that he is regenerate, but hauing a little growne forward in a good life, hee findeth his caſe plaine enough, and wants not this aſſurance, though he be incumbred with many doubtings. Yea, when hee ſtands at the weakeſt, and doth moſt complaine for want of this aſſurance, yet euen at that time, he neither accounts it impoſſible, nor yet needleſſe to hauehave it; but deſireth it with the ſtrongeſt of his deſires, and is troubled for want of it, more then for want of any other thing: and the feeling that he hath it not, ſerueth but to quicken his care of ſeeking it, and to make him ſeeke ſoundly, that he may not bee deceiued with falſe imaginations about it. Sometimes alſo it fals out, that a fit of Melacholy poſſeſſeth a growne man ſo ſtrongly, that hee imagines himſelfe no better then a dead man: but then the actions of life performed by him, do put the matter out of queſtion, amongſt others that hauehave life; and the ſame actions at laſt, perſwade himſelf alſo, that he liueth. Euen ſo a man borne again, and well growne in the life of Grace, through ſtrength of tentation, may bee ſo farre troubled, as to make a great doubt, whither he liue the life of grace yea or no. But he by feeling the troubleſomnes of this feare, & by ſtriuing againſt it, at length doth euidētly find, that he iudged falſely of his own caſe, and ſo returneth to enioy his aſſurance again. Yea, ſomtimes a liuing mā by ſome wound receiued, or by ſome inward diſtemperature, is caſt into a deadly ſwoune, neither feeling life, nor giuing any great ſignes of it: but after a while, by rubbing and the like meanes, he is reſtored to the vſe, and to the feeling of life. So a regenerate man being ouercome by ſome tentation, and hauing runne into ſome ſown, doth lie almoſt like a man dead in ſinnes and treſpaſſes; but after ſome checks of his owne heart, and admonitions of others, and corrections from the Lord, he is reuiued out of that ſowne, and begins to ſhew forth the effects of grace; and withall, with comfort to feele and vnderſtand the ſame. Wherfore it is manifeſt, that the knowledge of a mans being regenerate, is a neceſſary effect of regeneration, and which faileth not, out of the forenamed caſes, and after ſome time to reueale it ſelfe. Hence it is, that the regenerate man wonders at no kind of men more, then at them which will needs hold, that the matter of ones being truly ſanctified is ſo extremely ambiguous, as that, by reaſon of the deceitfulneſſe of mans heart, it ſhould bee impoſſible for any man, infallibly to know himſelfe to be in the ſtate of grace. He counts this is as abſurd, as if a man ſhould ſay, that becauſe an image may bee made and painted ſo like a liuing man, and that withall, fits of melancholy, and ſownes are of ſo ſtrong a working in men; therefore it ſhould be impoſſible for any man to know vſually and infallibly, that himſelfe is a liuing man. Hee perceiues that ſuch men ſpeake thus, alone becauſe they talke of theſe points barely by roar (as they ſay) & by meere ſpeculatiō. For he hauing known the powerful working of Gods ſpirit, knoweth well enough that he hath found it; and knowes that hauing it, it will make it ſelfe ſo euident, that after a little while it will be knowne; and when he wants it, hee findes himſelfe not driuen to denie the poſſibility or neceſſity of knowing it; but alone to bee grieued, and to condemne himſelfe that he doth not get that, which is both poſſible & neceſſary to be gotten. He finds alſo, that though, after his committing of ſome kindes of ſinnes, this his aſſurance that hee is Gods childe, is very much enfeebled; yet there is a ſecret and ſtrong worke of grace, inwardly mouing him, inuiting him, leading him by the hand; and little leſſe then with a kind of ſweet and gentle violence, drawing him to go to God and confeſſe his ſinne, crauing mercy, purpoſing amendment, and caſting himſelfe vponupon Chriſt for acceptance: that now he cānot but ſay within himſelfe, ſure here is life, though before the matter were called into doubt. Yea he findeth the ſpirit of adoption, dictating vntounto him the name of Father, in this caſe, and making him bold ſo to call God, and to cry vntounto him, till at length he perceiue by manifeſt ſignes, that hee is indeed a Father vntounto him. Yea verily, to the Chriſtian man, this knowledge of God is ſo rich and precious a iewell, that he makes more account of it then of a thouſand worlds, and a thouſand liues. Wherefore of (almoſt) all errours concerning mans condition, hee can with leaſt patience brooke their (to him being made in caſe to diſcerne it) moſt palpable fancy, of which I ſpake before, that thinke it impoſſible to attaine a ſure knowledge and infallible, that one is the child of God, not know himſelfe to bee Gods by regeneration, and adoption. Take away his life then, take away his being. The world is worſe then a priſon and a dungeon to him, if the light of this knowledge bee taken away: hee can hauehave no quiet in himſelfe, no comfort in any thing elſe, without this knowledge; he perceiues that this is the greateſt confirmation of his ſoule, in an holy life, that hee knowes himſelfe to be begotten againe by the ſeed of immortality, to a liuely hope, and to an immortall inheritance. This knowledge therefore is ſo neceſſary vntounto him, that hee cannot liue without it: and hence it is that he no longer enioyes himſelfe then he retaines it. And ſo much for the third effect of regeneration. The fourth, and (of thoſe that I purpoſe to ſpeake of) the laſt effect followeth. That is growth. As a naturall life,4. Growing in grace. ſo likewiſe a ſpiritual, by degrees encreaſeth & waxeth ſtronger & ſtronger, approching neerer to perfection; & that with a proportionable & ſutable encreaſe of eueryevery part and member, as I may call it, of the new man. For though in ſome parts he may be weaker then in others; yet in thoſe weaker parts alſo, conſidering the weakneſſe, there is a growth correſpondent to the growing of other parts.Ioh. 15.2. All the branches that bring forth fruit in Chriſt the vine, the Father the good huſbandman purgeth, that they may bring forth more fruit; and in Chriſt all the body hauing nouriſhment miniſtred, and knit together,Coloſ. 2.19. encreaſeth with the encreaſe of God; and that alſo according to the effectuall working of eueryevery part. A liuing branch, in a liuing tree, will draw ſap, and get growth. A liuing member, of a liuing body, cannot (by the courſe of nature) but attract fit nouriture, and procure to it ſelfe a going forward in ſtature, till the ſtature bee full and perfect. Doubtleſſe Chriſt is a liuing tree, his myſticall body a liuing body; wherefore the regenerate muſt needs be growing. But this matter of growth doth ſtand in need of a ſound explanation. Vnderſtand therefore that there is a double growth, one in greatneſſe, the other in goodneſſe; one in quantity, the other in quality. So you may ſee a man from his birth, to 24. or 25. yeeres grow bigger and bigger, he is higher and thicker, hath larger lims, and ſtronger ioynts; but from theſe yeeres vpward he growes wiſer, ſager, more ſtable, more ſober and better ſetled alſo in his bodily might. So an apple from Spring to Midſommer or after, growes larger and larger in bigneſſe; from thence to the time of its pulling, it growes pleaſanter and pleaſanter in taſte, and better and better reliſhed. Thus it is with a Chriſtian man: For a good ſpace of time, hee doth ſenſibly encreaſe in knowing and leauing more ſinnes, and in knowing and doing more duties; this is to grow in bigneſſe: but after a good time ſpent in Chriſts ſchoole, and that there bee but few new leſſons (not aboue his forme, as it were) to be learnt, hee cons ouer the old leſſons againe, and gets them more perfectly by heart, and better vnderſtood. Thoſe ſins he leaueth, he leaueth with more ſincerity, with more rectified zeale, with more louelove to God, with more deteſtation of ſinne. Thoſe duties likewiſe which he performeth, he performeth more aduiſedly, more reſolutely, more humbly, more ſoundly, and with a more entire bending of his ſoule to the glory of God in them, then before: This is his growing in goodneſſe and in ripeneſſe. And alwaies in this latter kinde of growth a Chriſtian man ſtands ſo affected, that hee doth moſt of all quarrell with himſelfe for not growing, when he growes moſt of all. Yea his ſlippes into ſome groſſe faults (and it may bee alſo ſometimes too too thicke) doe further this his growth ordinarily; ſo that he neuer growes faſter and better, then after the time that ſome falles have diſcouered vntounto him his badneſſe: for then he growes in humility; in hatred of himſelfe, in ſuſpicion of his owne frailty, whereby he is made capable of a profitable growing in all vertues, till at length this become his excellency, that the better he is, the meaner he is in his owne eyes; and the further he proceedeth, the more he is acquainted with his owne defects, and becomes more ſorrowfull and aſhamed for the ſlowneſſe of his proceedings. But now it muſt be further conceiued, that this growth hath his ſtops, ſtayes, hindrances, intermiſſions; and thoſe alſo ſomtimes euen ſome long ſpace of time together, euen for moneths and yeeres, as is to be ſeene in Dauid, Salomon, Aſa, Vzziah, and others. For as in naturall life, the child may grow till it be twentie, or more yeeres old, and then fall into a dangerous fit of ſickneſſe, as an ague, or the like; which ſhall caſt him vponupon his bed, and make his cheekes pale and wan, his legges quaking and feeble, his ſtomacke naught, and quite turned away from, almoſt all food, his whole body faint and powerleſſe; ſo that he can neither ſtand nor goe, nor ſcarce ſpeake or moue himſelfe, but euen lie at point of death: Euen ſo alſo in the life of grace there be Agues, there bee diſeaſes, there bee ſickneſſes, into which a Chriſtian man (euen now (it may be) come to ſo much ripenes, as this life wil beare) doth ſuddenly ſomtimes, but moſt times by degrees fall headlong, and almoſt dies, though quite to die it bee impoſſible. Now if you ſpeake of his growing, hee doth but grow backward; euen as a ſicke man growes weaker and weaker, after ſickneſſe hath ceized vponupon him. Theſe diſeaſes grow for the moſt part from the comming in of promotion and wealth, and the pleaſures and vanities that moſt commonly come in with them; that we may ſee how dangerous the goods and greatneſſe of this world be to a Chriſtian ſoule, that cannot ſoundly digeſt and concoct them. Or elſe, they ariſe from the poyſonfull infection of ſome euill companion or other, to whom a man hath by ſome occaſion fooliſhly linked himſelfe in familiaritie. In truth moſt times ſurfeting breeds ſpirituall ſickneſſe. From the exceſſiue louelove, and liking, and vſing, and enioying of earthly things, and from a conceit of ones owne being better and ſafer for their abundance, a man comes to bee leſſe ſatisfied in God, and in holy duties; and to hauehave leſſe minde to thinke and muſe of heauen, and the graces of Gods Spirit, the practiſing of which is the way to come to heauen. So there is a ſtoppage and obſtruction in the ſoule, and hence ſo ſenſible a decay of ſpiritual ſtrength, til a man fall to heape more then one or two groſſe ſinnes (and ſometimes preſumptuous), one vponupon the necke of another, and ſometimes to lie long in them, before hee can ſee to reforme them, or ſoundly renew his repentance for them; the one hardning his heart, and blinding his minde ſo, that the other following can ſcarce be ſeene or felt. Thus there is wrought a ſtrange decay of the power of godlineſſe, euen in a true regenerate man, by the encreaſe of his outward eſtate: for he was a ſanctified man,Prou. 30.9. that prayed God not to giuegive him riches, leſt himſelfe being full, ſhould denie God, and ſay, Who is the Lord? And ſometimes alſo on the contrarie, euen hard and ſharpe afflictions doe bring a decay of ſanctification. The anguiſh of a croſſe may breede impatiencie, diſtruſt, lying, vſing of baſe ſhifts, and twenty diſorders in a regenerate mans life; in ſo much, that hee may be drawne to very groſſe and ſinfull practiſes. But when the poore Chriſtian ſoule is either of theſe waies diſeaſed, or any other like to them; O, then he fareth like to a ſicke man indeed, he feeles his diſeaſe with exceeding great paine. It makes him groane, and crie out many a time, hee is weary, full weary of ſuch an eſtate. No man is more tyred with a burning fit of an ague, then he with theſe fits. Reſt, comfort, quiet he can get none. Indeed the diuell and the world in ſome caſes, doe as friends vſe to doe in caſe of ſickneſſe. They bring likely conſerued Plums or Marmelade, or ſome ſuch like ſweete meate, which the poore ſicke man takes indeede, becauſe they will hauehave it ſo that are about him: but alas, they doe but clamme his mouth, and hee findes their very ſweetneſſe bitter and troubleſome: So the diuell and the world, and the fleſh, offer to the Chriſtian ſoule, the pleaſures, and profits of this world, as it were ſweet meats, & he willing to find eaſe in any thing, ſeekes if there it may bee had: but alas he finds it not, he cannot reliſh theſe pleaſures, he hath ſmal comfort in theſe profits; this credit is a drie credit vntounto him, his heart will not reliſh ſuch things as theſe; but ſtill he toſſeth and tumbleth, finding no reſt in his eſtate, nor perhaps power to get out of it: for it may bee, hee cannot bring himſelfe to pray at all,Pſal. 32.3. as Dauid could not; for he ſaith of himſelfe, that he held his peace: or if he doe, it's too coldly and faintly to remoue ſo mortall a ſickneſſe. But ſtill as the ſame Dauid alſo confeſſeth of himſelfe, he roareth and crieth out all the day long (I cannot but be fully perſwaded, that there he deſcribes his eſtate in the interim betwixt his ſinne, and his earneſt repentance, for ſome feeble offers to repentance perhaps he might hauehave before), and ſo now his caſe is a very reſtleſſe and diſeaſefull caſe. Solomon (the man that of all Gods ſicke children, I thinke, by ſurfetting caught the ſo reſt ſickneſſe) ſhall witneſſe this. He wanted no ſweete meates, but they cloied him in ſtead of comforting him; he profeſſeth of them al, that he found them meere vanity and vexation of Spirit. So when a Chriſtian lies vnderunder theſe ſpirituall diſeaſes, all his outward comforts are but euen vexation of ſpirit vntounto him. When he hath thus almoſt wounded and killed himſelfe, Oh how hee ſmarts and bleedes, and is troubled! Indeed he ſtill perhaps is carried after the vanities of the world, ſinne hauing now ſo very much preuailed againſt him, that he wants power to with-draw himſelfe, and to goe backe; but yet full many a time hee ſighes, and groanes, and lookes towards God, and towards the ſpirituall reſt of his former life, and hee finds a very bitter, bitter heart. He is in very great extremity, and it is euen a pang of death for him to remember, how the caſe ſtood with him once, and how it is now. And in very truth, were hee let alone in this caſe, his ſoule would periſh; the life of grace would die, and hee would proue his diſeaſe mortall. But, Ah hee hath a good Father, who is alſo a good Phyſition, who finding his diſeaſe grow mortall (and that the admonitions of the Word in publike will not reforme him, and that the voyce of the ſpirit behind him, is now too weake to be heard by him, though ſtill it ceaſe not to checke him, and to call vponupon him, and to make him ſometimes purpoſe to returne againe from this outſtraying) doth now like a good and wiſe practitioner, adminiſter ſome ſuch phiſicke as ſhall ſerue the turne. Some potion of a bitter croſſe, which the ſpirit ſhall worke withall to make it effectuall, is put into his hand to drinke it: or ſome ſore tentation of Satan, or ſome horrible feare of heart, which opens theſe ſtoppages, purgeth out theſe humours, reuiueth his ſoule; and then wofully moſt wofully, he cries out of himſelfe, laments his exceeding folly, goes to God, hartily confeſſing his ſinnes, and with all rigor paſſing ſentence vponupon himſelfe for the ſame, and ſo continues to mourne and cry, and beg mercy till he finde it; and then ſtriues to make amends for his former not growing, by growing ſo much the faſter for it now. So hee is recouered, and continues to the end; for totally or finally fall away by ſinne, he cannot, becauſe the annoynting of the ſpirit preſerueth him: till he be raiſed vp at the laſt day, Chriſt will not ceaſe keeping him: yea to ſaluation is he kept, by the power of that great God that hath adopted him to himſelfe for a ſonne: and this ſpirituall life giuen in regeneration, indeed becomes an eternall life; ſicke he may be, dye he cannot.