Monthly Preparations for Holy Communion, Part 3
A Pathetical Meditation on the Paſſion of Chriſt; to be read by Communicants before their reception of the Sacrament of the Lords-Supper.
Queſt. WHat is the Sacrament of the Lords-Supper?
Anſw. It conſiſts of two viſible ſigns, Bread and Wine, which by the Lords appointment was to repreſent to the receiver his bloody death, that ſo his Diſciples may keep it freſh in their memories.
Q. But is it only to remember that there was a Chriſt, and that he was crucified, and no more?
Anſw. Experience tells us that ſuch a bare remembrance as that, doth little move upon the heart and upon the affections, and ſo will do little or no good. It is not the remembrance of any mans death that doth of it ſelf affect me, but as I conſider him as a Father, or as a Husband, or as a Friend, with many other expreſſions of his love to me when living, this will exceedingly work upon the heart, ſo as to cauſe ſorrow and grief, and the like.
Queſt. What is it then that I muſt call to mind when I think upon a bleeding and dying Chriſt, ſo as to affect my heart?
Anſw. The cruel and bloody nature of his Death; here you may conſider the whole ſtory of his Arraignment, his being betrayed by his own Apoſtle, his being ſpit upon and crowned with thorns, his being mocked and jeered by putting a reed into his hand inſtead of a ſcepter, afterwards his bearing of a Croſs, and his being nailed to it in his hands and feet; after that, his being pierced through with a ſp…ar; this Mat. 27. will fully acquaint you with. Secondly, the cauſes of his Death; it was no natural diſeaſe, neither was it for any evil done of his own, but for us, He bore our iniquities upon the croſs. Thirdly, the effects of his death, which was to obtain power of his Father to conquer the Devil, and pull us out of his hands; to break our hearts, and to conquer us to himſelf, to pardon our ſins, and to give unto us eternal life with himſelf in glory, and this upon our faith and ſincere repentance. Now from all theſe things are your Meditations to be raiſed, before you come to this Sacrament, and when you are receiving of it.
An Example of Meditation I have here ſet you down as followeth.
Away theſe wanton wandering wordly thoughts, you are clogs to my ſoul. Away all trifling worldly buſineſs, I cannot now attend your call, my heart hath now ſomething elſe to do. Adieu my Friends, farewell my Husband, Wife and Child, I muſt go ſee my bleeding Lord, that's dearer to me than you all. Come now my ſoul, thou art alone, thou knoweſt the way make haſt and ſeed; look yonder, ſee how the people flock; croſs but this vale, and climb but up this mount, thou wilt ſoon arrive at bloody Golgotha, where thou ſhalt ſee thy bleeding and dying Siviour to ſigh and linger out a dying life on the Croſs in love for thee. This, this might, Oh my Soul, have been thy day, and thou might'ſt have been the priſoner; this I ſay might have been the day in which thou might'ſt have drunk the bitter cup of the fierce anger of God. But look yonder! there he goes that muſt drink up the dregs, and all for thee. Look again! there he goes that muſt lay down his life that thou maiſt be reprieved. But come, my ſoul, draw up a little nearer, thou canſt not ſee him well at ſo great a diſtance; ſtand here and thou wilt ſee him paſſing; look, there he goes with a train of Virgins following. But ſee how cruelly theſe barbarous Jews do uſe him, they make him bear his Croſs himſelf, and preſs his wearied fainting limbs above his ſtrength; ſee how they laugh and ſcoff, and wag their heads as if he were their May-game. Methinks my heart boils up with rage to ſee theſe cruelties revenged: Oh! how could the bleſſed God forbear to ſee his bleſſed Son thus wronged? Why did he not ſend twelve Legions of Angels for his reſcue? Why doth he not ſend down fire from Heaven upon the heads of theſe his Sons enemies, and ſo conſume them? But ſtay my fooliſh heart, thou knoweſt not what ſpirit thou art of; this debt was owing, and it muſt be paid; God requires ſo much, and it muſt be given, or thou canſt not be ſaved. Thy Lord did know this well enough, for this he came from Heaven, and committed himſelf to the rage of men; he knew he muſt endure all theſe revilings, and doth it grieve thy ſoul to ſee him thus abaſed? Stay but a while, and thou ſhalt ſee him more; look up, my ſoul, come, tell me what thou ſeeſt? Oh I cannot, ſorrow tyes my tongue, I cannot ſpeak; I ſee and hear thoſe things that I want a power to utter. I ſee a troop of Virgins following him, their weeping Eyes, their blubbering lips, their ſighs and throbbings ſpeak them mourners. I ſee my Lord looks towards them, and kindly chides their loving ſorrow, Why weep ye, Oh ye Daughters of Jeruſalem? weep not for me. My Lord! what need was there for that queſtion? Should not they weep when thou muſt bleed? Would not their eyes have been flints if that then they ſhould not drop tears for thee, when as thou wert about to pour out thy life and blood for them? Ah! could they chuſe, or do leſs than weep to ſee thine innocent ſelf among a herd of Tygers! what ſhould a Lamb do there? they ſaw thee in their ravenous jaws about to tear thy heart, to ſuck out all thy blood, and leave thee dead. Have I not ſat and read, and read and wept viewing over the ſtory; and could they forbear that with their watry eyes ſaw this ſcene then acted? But whither, O whither, O ye blinded Jews, are ye dragging this my Lord? My ſpirit begins to faint, I now can look no longer, my heart now begins to ſwell with grief, it muſt now break, or I muſt vent it at mine eyes in ſtreams! Look! ſee the Hammer and Nails, the Hammer lift up to ſtrike. Bloody man! thou durſt not ſure; ſurely thou doſt not know whoſe hands and feet thou art now piercing; it is the Prince and Saviour of the World Fooliſh heart! ſee how thou art miſtaken; look, ſee it's done, the nails are driven to the head! ſee how the crimſon tears run trickling down his hands and feet, and ſee how hardened hearts be laughing at it! Oh ſilly fooliſh blinded men! what laugh you at? This very Chriſt whom now you mock, ſhall be your Judge; this very man Jeſus whom you have thus abuſed ſhall come attended with thouſands of Angels, with the ſound of Trumpets, and ſhall ſit upon your life and death. Him whom you now have nailed to a Croſs, hath God exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour. What then will you do when that great and terrible day of the Lord ſhall come? How will you look him in the face whom you have ſpit on? How will you dare to ſpeak a word for your ſelves to him whom you have nailed to a tree and crucified? His wounds in hands, ſide and feet ſhall all bear witneſs againſt you, and his innocent blood that you have ſpilt ſhall cry aloud about the throne for vengeance againſt you; your flouts ſhall then be turned into tears, and your taunts into lamentations. And how will you then look and cry when God paſſeth ſentence on you, and thruſts you down to Hell to bear the puniſhment of your ſins? this is the Lord that came to ſpare your lives, yet your wickedneſs ſpared not his; and how at length can you think to eſcape with yours?
But once again, look up my ſoul, and ſee what is become of thy nailed and crucified Lord: Ah me! he is not quite dead, look how he gaſps and pants for life! Oh how his looks are changed! How pale and wan do I ſee his cheeks! the blood and all the ſpirits are quite drawn from them. Methinks he ſhould be dead, for ſee how weak his neck is grown, that it is not able to ſupport his head that lyes a dying on his bleeding breaſt. What yet not dead! ſee how he ſhakes and ſtirs his dying limbs! what gaſps and groans do I hear him fetch, as if his ſoul were ſtrugling to get out? Hark, hark, he ſpeaks! Oh let me catch the leaſt breath of my dying Saviour. What ſaith my Lord? Hark, what doſt thou not hear! What? My God, my God, why haſt thou forſaken me? I am amazed to hear theſe words. How couldſt thou ſuſpect thy Fathers love? How could he be far from thee, who was one with thy ſelf? But Oh! this is but the voice of his Manhood, and not of his Godhead. It was the voice of the dying and bleeding Man Jeſus, not the voice of the God Jeſus.
But, Oh my Lord, what are thoſe pains and gripes thou feeleſt, that brings forth theſe complainings? But why do I ask this queſtion? hath he not been all this while a drinking up the cup his Father gave him, the bitter, and ſowr, and poyſonous cup of his Fathers wrath, which I and all the world had elſe drunk of? he juſt now ſwallowed down the laſt mouthful of the dregs, whoſe bitter noiſom taſte hath ſent forth theſe doleful lamentations; for mark, he had no ſooner ſpoke theſe words, but he gaſped his laſt.
The cauſes of his Death.
And muſt the Son of God be humbled thus? muſt he that was from everlaſting, raiſed and advanced above every man in heaven and earth; he that lay in the arms and breaſt of God, loved by the Father, and his only Son; honoured, adored, admired and beloved of ten thouſand times ten thouſands of Angels; But muſt this God leave all this glory, and change that ſweet Heavenly and delightſome Palace for ſo mean, ſo low, ſo dirty a cottage, as to be born a man. And muſt his entertainment at firſt be no better than a ſtable or a manger could give him? No ſooner muſt he begin to live, but muſt an enemy aſſault his life? Muſt he travel up and down the earth, and ſpend his time and ſtrength in preaching glad tidings to miſerable undone men, and fill the world with ſigns and wonders, and not deſerve ſo much of men as a houſe to dwell in, or a hole to put his head in? and after all this humble, holy, long-ſuffering life, muſt he be thought of by this unthankful and unbelieving world as one not worthy to live, and not have a breathing in that air which he both made and gave them to breath in? but muſt he at length be laid hold of by a traiterous Judas that he had once taken for one of his Apoſtles; & muſt he ſuffer all this? But ah! alas! what is this? muſt he be alſo crowned with thorns, and muſt he ſweat and bleed? Oh far more than tongue can utter! Oh aſtoniſhing condeſcention! thus did the Son become a ſervant, and learn'd obedience by his ſufferings, and ſerved three and thirty years apprenticeſhip in the pain and travel of his ſoul here on earth, a longer time than Jacob ſerved for his beloved Rachel, & that becauſe he loved us better, and therefore gave a better dowry for us. But had I lived to have ſeen this Prince of Glory thus diſguis'd, this Eaſtern Sun thus benighted in a cloud, this Glorious God thus wraped up in rags of fleſh, ſhould I have known him, or not? my ſenſual heart, I doubt thee much; wouldeſt thou have cleaved to him and loved him better than thy life, and have ſaid, Though all leave thee, I will not; and with Paul, I am willing and ready not only to be bound, but to die for thee. What thinkeſt thou, Oh my ſoul! couldſt thou have left Husband, Wife, Father and Mother, and all the reſt of thy Friends, and have ſold all that thou haſt, and followed him, what him whom the Prophet foretold? Iſa. 53. 23. He hath no form or comlineſs in him, that you ſhould deſire him: he is deſpiſed and rejected of men, a man of ſorrows and acquainted with griefs. Tell me, tell me, couldſt thou have divorced thy ſelf from all, and have taken this ſeemingly uncomely perſon for thy Lord, and only Husband? Ah me! I do not know my heart; but ſurely, had I known him as I do now know him, I ſhould not have ſtuck at any thing for him. For what if his Face did want comlineſs, ſeeing it came ſo with tears and grief for thee? and wilt thou love thy friend the worſe, becauſe he ſhares in ſorrow with thee? for thou canſt not but know that he came from Heaven to take to himſelf a Spouſe on Earth; and if I was one that he loved, and grieved for to ſee my ſtubborn heart ſo hard to yield, was this the cauſe he wanted beauty? On ſuch a want as this is lovely, and me thinks my heart could have cleaved the cloſer to him, There was no beauty or comlineſs in him, and what of that? my ugly and deformed ſoul deſerves more loathing; my righteouſneſs, the comelieſt part about me is but rags, or a menſtruous cloth; if there were no more deſirableneſs in him than in me, Oh had I loved him then, and left all for him, it were no wonder: but that he ſhould love me, I rather ſtand amazed! There was no beauty in him, it may be ſo; but could it be otherwiſe expected from him who came to work in fire and ſmoke, who came to quench the Flames of Hell, and to ſatisfie Gods wrath and juſtice? to pull out filthy ſouls from the jaws of luſtful ſenſual fleſh and blood? it was not beauty but ſtrength that was here needful. A glance of an amorous eye would not have wounded Satan, and made him fall from Heaven like a flaſh of Lightning. A comly countenance could not have inchanted and unbar'd Hell gates, and made them fall, and break before him into ſhatters. What need a fair hand to touch our filthy rotten ſouls, and … them up in menſtruous blood, and wash … clean; or what need ſuch clean hands to … about the ruſty iron gates wherein I … world lay bound in chains, and to … down, to take our cankered bolts and … them off; to take us by the hand to … up, and lead us out? Alas! there needs no ſuch eye, face, or hand for ſuch a work. It is powerful, all-conquering ſtrength that is here required. It was a powerful victorious arm that here was needed, and ſuch a one he had. But what ſhould he do with a beautious body that muſt be ſo abaſed and abuſed as his was? an uncomly face will ſerve where it muſt be ſpit on. What muſt he do with a fair ſoft delicate hand, which muſt be pierced; another kind of hand is good enough to knock a nail into. And what needs his body be of a clear, white, thin, tranſparent skin? will not any ſerve that body that muſt be bruiſed and wounded as his was; nay, as it was neceſſary his ſhould be? But why thus neceſſary? either he muſt be thus dealt with, or elſe my ſin cannot be pardoned. Either he muſt be deſpiſed of men, or I muſt be of God. Oh! he muſt drink up this bitter cup with all its dregs, or elſe I muſt have drunk it up my ſelf. It was I that ſinned, and I muſt have ſuffered: this curſed, proud and earthly heart of mine rebelled and broke the Laws, and ſhould have ſuffered and born the puniſhment; had not he ſtept in and born the ſtroke off from me, I had been now burning in everlaſting flames, and have been lingering out this time in torment, which I am now ſpending in the ſweet thoughts of my eſcape. And is not this all true? ſpeak out, my Soul; hath not the Prophet ſaid as much? Surely (ſaith he) he hath born our griefs, and carried our ſorrows: duplicate page duplicate page he was wounded for our tranſgreſſions, he was bruiſed for our iniquities, the chaſtiſement of our peace lay upon him, and by his ſtripes we are healed. All we like ſheep are gone aſtray, we are every one turned to his one way, and the Lord hath laid upon him the iniquities of us all. He was oppreſſed, he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he was brought as a lamb to the ſlaughter, and as a ſheep before the ſhearers was dumb, ſo he opened not his mouth. He was taken from priſon and judgment, and who ſhall declare his generation? for he was cut off from the land of the living. And for the tranſgreſſion of my people was he ſmitten. Thou feeſt thy debt, and thy Saviours payment of it; theſe are no fictions; thou haſt juſt now read a ſure word of Prophecy that hath confirmed it. Thoſe wounds, thoſe ſtripes, thoſe bruiſes which thou readeſt of, he bore for thee, and which were due to thee. It was thou that ſhouldſt have been led from priſon to judgment, from priſon to the Judgment-ſeat of the great God, who ſhould have ſat as Judge; he ſhould have arraigned thee, ſentenced thee, and have ſent thee to the ſlaughter-houſe of Hell, where thou ſhouldeſt have been weeping, and wailing, and gnaſhing of thy teeth. But Oh amazing love and grace! the Son of God that loved me better than his life, ſtept off his Throne and took my nature on him, and became a man like to me (only ſin excepted) he came and bid me comfort my trembling heart, he would put himſelf in my condition, and become the priſoner; and if my ſin would coſt his life, he would freely part with it. Methinks I feel my bowels turn, my ſpirits melt within me; was ever love like to his love? he was a ſtranger to me: why did he not let me die? It was his Father I did wrong, why did he not let me ſuffer? What if my puniſhment was as great as Hell? ſurely I did deſerve it. What if my pains and ſcreeches were eternal? Ah! I was a creature, a worm, a fly, a nothing to him, and what need he have cared? but he loved me; and could he love a priſoner at the Bar? I was a ſinner, a vile polluted one, methinks he ſhould have loathed me; but he did waſh thee, and make thee clean again. Ay, but I was his Fathers enemy, and ſo no friend to him; or would he love an enemy? or did he not know ſo much? but how could that be when he ſaw my heart, and the enmity that was in it? yes, he did, and yet he loved thee; even while we were enemies he died for us. But why did he love an enemy? or how could he do it? I know not why, it is paſt my reaſon to imagine it: Oh inexpreſſible love! Oh love paſt thought! I cannot fathom thee with my reaſon, thy ways are unaccountable; he loves becauſe he will love. And though his love diſpleaſeth us, yet it pleaſeth him to love us. What ails my heart? I cannot find it ſtir? What, dead under the reviving thoughts of thy deareſt Redeemer! I juſt now ſaid, he loved thee though an enemy, and when thou lovedſt not him; I ſee the enmity is not quite remov'd, thou canſt not love him yet: Ariſe, ſhake up thy ſelf, and look about thee, thou doſt not ſure ſee thy mercy; ſurely thou underſtandeſt not what thou oughteſt to underſtand. Come away, Oh come away, lift up thy drowſie head, I will make thee look and love, while I ſet thee all on burning, and make thee ere I leave thee confeſs thou loveſt him. Think, think, Oh my ſoul, that thou hadſt juſt now ſinned and broke that law which threatned death, and upon the breach doth find thee guilty. Think that thou ſaweſt a flaming Cherubim, a meſſenger of the Court of Heaven flirt in at that door and arreſt thee for High treaſon and give thee a ſummons to riſe from the ſeat thou ſitteſt on, to make a ſudden anſwer for thy life. Look then, my ſoul, Ah! I lookt juſt now, I ſee that door wide open: What's this a ſpirit? Ah me, I am undone, for I have ſinned! I think the room ſhakes under me, or elſe 'tis my heart that's trembling. What's this I hear! I muſt now anſwer for my life: O what ſhall I ſay! I know not what; I have ſinned, my Conſcience tells me that I have ſinned, the witneſs within will caſt me, I ſee the Inditement writ with blood on my heart; the pride, ſenſuality, and the earthlineſs of which I am charged with, I am not able to deny one tittle. Oh for a mountain to cover me: Oh whither ſhall I go, wither ſhall I flie? That Bed, theſe Curtains, this cloſet cannot hide me. My Mother, Father, Wife or Child, can not help me: O who then ſhall? I run, whither, I know not; vengeance will find me out where ever I go. Oh curſed and ſubtil Satan! are all thy fair promiſes and inticements come to this! O my wicked curſed fooliſh heart! that ever I ſhould believe him before my Creator, that told me, the day I ſinned I ſhould ſurely die. Oh that for a little ſimple tranſient pleaſure I ſhould ſo madly hazard my eternal life and now I muſt be caſt to Hell to bear the puniſhment of my folly. Think once again, think that this were the day, and this the very place in which God ſhould come and ſit in Judgement on thee. Methinks I ſee the Heavens bow themſelves: Oh what a crackling do I hear in the Clouds; look yonder! ſee who comes! it is my Judge; his countenance is as a flame of fire, he utters his voice like Thunder, the mountains skip, or rather ſhake, or rather tremble. Now, now, is the time of my utter deſtruction near at hand. Oh how ſhall I look him in the face! his looks do already affright me! I ſhall not ſay one word, and I have not one Friend that will ſay one word for me. It's true, I ſee a terrible glorious Troop of Angels that do attend him, but they are all his friends, and therefore all my enemies: I dare not ſpeak a word to them; and alas! if I ſhould, they are all but his ſervants, and fellow-creatures with my ſelf; alas! they cannot, yea they will not help me. It's true, there is one, that one that ſeems as one with God, the beams of whoſe countenance are far brighter than all the Hoſt of Heaven: Beſides, if God have a Son, it may be it is he; methinks he is a mirrour of his Fathers Glory; but this I know not; be what he will, he cannot pity me a ſinner, the doors of hope are all ſhut up, and now as a miſerable wretch I muſt prepare to hear my ſentence; the Judge is ſet, and with trembling heart and joints I ſtand a priſoner at the Bar for my life, and now I muſt attend his call.
God ſpeaks,]
Sinner, where art thou?
The Sinner anſwers]
Lord, here am I.
God ſpeaks]
How dareſt thou thus abuſe … Grace, and kindle up my zeal against … that now as ſtuble it will conſ… this the thanks that thou … all the love that I have ſh… Muſt I make a whole world and … it to thee, and as if that was to…, I bid thee freely take my ſelf and all, and would not this content thee? Was I not as a Father to thee, the time thou lovedſt me, and didſt obey me? Did I not make thy ſeat a Paradice, and ſtrewed thy paths with pleaſure? Did I not rejoyce over thee as a young man over his bride? What evil haſt thou found in me, that thou ſhouldſt thus rebelliouſly revolt and break my Laws, and for a trifle ſell my favour, and hazard my Eternal pleaſures? Speak ſinner, was it not ſo?
The ſinner anſwers]
My God, theſe weeping eyes and bended knees confeſs ſo much.
God ſpeaks]
Had I not told thee that ſin would coſt thee thy life, then thou hadſt had ſome excuſe: have I ſaid it, and will the great God change? ſinner, thou muſt die; I told thee ſo before, and now I tell thee again, the God of Heaven cannot lye. Get thee gone thou curſed wretch into eternal flames, and keep that Devil company in chains and torments, with whom thou haſt rebelled againſt me, and go ſee what pleaſures thou haſt in ſinning.
The Sinner anſwereth]
Thou great God and terrible Judge; I do confeſs thy ſentence juſt; but if there be any powels of mercy in thee, pity me, or I die for ever. Mercy, mercy, Lord! for I am thy creature, the workmanſhip of thy hands. If there be any thing in the trembling heart and hands, and knees of this thy ſentenced priſoner, that will move compaſſion, O pity, pity a condemned ſinner.
God ſpeaks.]
What! ſtays he longer to trouble my patience! I ſay, be gone thou curſed; though thou art my creature, know that my wrath hath kindled on better creatures than thou art; get thee to Hell, and the howling Devils will tell thee as much.
The ſinner ſpeaks]
Ah, wo, wo, wo to me, for ever curſed I am, and curſed muſt I go for ever, My righteous Judge, and ye Glorious Angels adieu for ever: Live, live for ever bleſſ'd and happy in his love; I might have lived, and joyed, and gloried in that God that made both ye and me; but like a wretch that I am, wo that ever I was born, I ſold his favour, and ſo my eternal life, for a thing of nought, a vain luſt, a ſinful pleaſure that laſted but for a ſeaſon, and I go, I go into eternal flames. What ſays my heart to this Methinks the very thoughts of it do make my heart to quiver, and my fleſh to ſhake all round about me; I feel no ſtrength in all my joints.
God ſpeaks]
So, ſo, I am glad ſomething moves thee.
But think again, that the Devil did take hold of thee, and drag thee from the place thou fitteſt on, to Hell; ſuppoſe the Father frowning on thee, and all the Angels ſhouting thee down to Hell, and glorying in thy damnation; but think again thou ſaweſt when all were joying to ſee thee ſentenced to Hell, that he that ſat juſt by the Judge, whom thou thoughteſt even now to be his Son, but kneweſt it not. Look! look! methings I ſee him riſe off his Throne; ſee, ſee, how the Angels fall to adore him, methinks he is a coming near thee. Oh how my heart doth tremble: Oh what will he torment me before my time! Ah me! my doom is great enough already.
Sinner ſpeaks]
Thou wilt not ſend me to a worſer place than Hell; my Judge hath paſſed my ſentence, thou canſt not ſend me into worſer than flames, or puniſh me longer than everlaſtingly.
Chriſt anſwers.]
Oh how my bowels turn! this ſinner knows not what is in my heart; he thinks I am his enemy. Sinner, ſhake off thy tears, and wipe thine eyes, thou ſhalt not die.
The ſinner ſpeaks again.]
Oh thou glorious God or Angel, or I know not what to call thee, do not delude or deride a poor Caitiff wretch in the midſt of miſery: Why wilt thou raiſe me to ſuch a pinacle of hope, to caſt me down, and make my fall the greater? My Judge hath paſſed the ſentence, I muſt die; and who can reverſe the doom? Ah! I muſt go; ſee my priſon-door wide open; the ſmoke and flaſhes come to meet my deſpairing ſoul half way.
Chriſt ſpeaks]
And now my heart begins to break, my love can keep no longer in; how cauſleſly doth this wretch torment his heart! he knows not who I am: I muſt reveal my ſelf. Sinner, I love thee; I ſay thou ſhalt not die: Come, feel my heart and pulſe how they beat, and tell how ſtrong my love within doth act them; Doſt thou not fee I have left my Throne, and am come down to the Bar where thou ſtandeſt condemned? But why doſt thou weep? Come, let me wipe thine eyes, and bind up thy bleeding and deſpairing heart: I tell thee thou ſhalt not die: If Heaven will have blood, it ſhall have mine, ſo it will but ſpare thine. Sinner, if thou kneweſt who I am, thou wouldeſt not doubt one tittle: I tell thee I am his Son, his only Son, that but now condemned thee: I know he is juſt, and juſtice muſt be ſatisfied. But do not thou fear, if one of us muſt die, it ſhall be I: I will pour out my blood a ſacrifice for ſin, and appeaſe his wrath, and make you friends again. Ye innumerable company of Angels, (yet ſervants at my Father will) why do ye rejoyce to ſee my priſoner ſent to Hell? this curſed ſoul over whom in glory you do now triumph, I do reſolve to die for, and to buy her to my ſelf a Spouſe, and to make her bleſſed with your ſelves, and give her a Princes's place on a Throne that is by my ſelf.
Sinner ſpeaks]
Is this a dream! or am I waking? the goodneſs, greatneſs, glory of this ſudden unexpected bleſſed change, tempts me to doubt whether it be true, or whether it be ſome unruly fancy that doth delude this wretched heart of mine? What for the Son of God to debaſe himſelf ſo low as to take my nature, & ſo my cauſe, and become the priſoner! What! and though he knows he ſhall duplicate page duplicate page be caſt! Will he hear the ſentence, and quietly bear bolts, and ſhackles, and chains, which ſhould have fettered me? Yet more than this, Doth he know it is impoſſible to get a reprieve from his Father and judge? and that he muſt moſt aſſuredly drink the bittereſt dregs of Death, more bitter than Devils or damned Souls in Hell has yet ever taſted of? For it is impoſſible the Cup ſhould paſs: And can he, will he, dare he venture? But ſtay, I muſt be a Spouſe! to be exalted from this Dunghill to be a Princeſs to the Son and Heir of Glory! Hold, hold, here's enugh, it is a dream, an idle fancy of a diſtempered brain; I ſhall never find a heart to believe one Syllable. But yet, methinks, if it be a dream, 'tis a Golden one. Is it poſſible that ſuch a damned wretch as I, could harbour ſuch ſilken gilded thoughts of ſuch love, grace, mercy and tenderneſs of the Son of God? Oh my heart! if they were not true, how came they into my mind, or how came they to ſtay? or could they, if but meer fictions, make ſuch a change in my heart? Could they ſo victoriouſly conquer all my fear, ſilence all my doubts, allay the heats of a ſcorched and be-helled Conſcience? But why a dream, poor wretched heart? Didſt thou not ſee him ſtep off his Throne? Was it a time to dream or ſleep in, when thou wert before the judgment-ſeat, while God was frowning, and the Devils dragging thee to and fro to get thee away to Hell? O then, juſt then, he ſtept down, drew near and took thee by the hand, and ſpoke theſe reviving words to thee: Doubt this, and doubt thy judgment. But why a dream? I am not now in Hells torments, whither I was juſt now ſentenced: My heart is now at eaſe and quiet; ſurely ſomething muſt be the reaſon why the Devil that but now had hold of me, hath left me. Where is the Conſcience that but now was burning in me; But Oh, cannot the preſence of the Lord put me out of doubt? Do not his words that were ſo kind, his tender dealing with me, doth not his ſtooping to me, taking me by the arm, and the gentle lifts that he gives to my drooping ſoul, ſpeak him preſent? Oh! do not my head, eyes, arms, heart, breaſt, and the caſe of every joint and limb about me, witneſs the ſame? Away my unbelieving heart, what a ſtir is here to make thee believe a thing ſo evident? Doubt my mind, and freely doubt, I'le give thee leave, when thou haſt any occaſion or reaſon for it. But why ſhould I doubt that which is paſt all doubt? May I not believe my ſenſes? I both ſaw and heard him ſpeak the words; or ſhall I miſdoubt his faithfulneſs? I know he is the Son of God he cannot lye, but it is true? yet, my God, I pray thee be not angry with my ſcrupulous heart; thou ſeeſt in tears I make the doubt, let it be an argument to me of ſincerity: I do not ask that queſtion as one that would be fain perſwaded it's true: Canſt thou think, my Lord, that I would not be reconciled, and cheerfully accept of Grace when thou ſo freely offeredſt it? O but Lord, ſpeak theſe words to my heart which thou haſt already ſpoke to my ear, and thou wilt melt it into love and thankfulneſs, and I ſhall never doubt it more.
Object. But yet, but what can Heaven love ſo much?
Anſw. Thou ſilly worm! how idly doſt thou queſtion? muſt Heaven, and ſo its love, be bound up to ſo narrow and contracted thoughts as thine are? What, can God love no more than thou canſt? Love is a perfection, and God is infinitely perfect, ſo muſt be infinitely and incomprehenſively loving. Thou fool, go ſound the Sea, and tell me its greateſt depths; give me the height of yonder Stars, this poſſibly thou maiſt do; for the Seas are not ſo deep but they have a bottom, nor the Stars ſo high, but they may by art be known. But, Oh the heights, and depths, and breadths, and lengths of the love of our Redeemer! He is God, and his breaſts are ſo full of love, that they flow and overflow with love; they have no bottom. Do but try, my ſoul, caſt thy ſelf into this bottomleſs lovely Ocean, into this endleſs Boſom; and when thou haſt been ſinking millions of millions of years, tell me whether you come to ground. Ye glorious Angels, and ye bleſſed Spirits of juſt men made perfect, that live above, you that have been wading downward theſe five thouſands of years, do ye feel a bottom? or are ye near one? Away, away, my fooliſh heart; if this be all thou haſt to plead, he may redeem thee, and take thee for his Spouſe, and betroth thee to himſelf, notwithſtanding all this.
Object. But Oh this filthy loathſom fleſhly ſelf, this baſe unthankful earthly heart, that can prefer a dunghill, droſs, and dirt, before him that can freely lay out his love to a creature like my ſelf: But Oh how hard, and ſtiff, and unrelenting am I to my God. But Oh he will ſlight me, becauſe I have often put him off, and ſlighted him; he cannot love and die for ſuch a one as I am.
Anſw. Ceaſe, fool, thy reaſonings; he cannot love an enemy, becauſe thou canſt not; he cannot die, becauſe thy cowardly heart will not ſuffer thee! Why ſhould he fear the grave, that had power over it? And what though thou art unworthy of his love, if he will have thee and make thee worthy? Thy heart is baſe, and what of that, if he will mend it? thy filthy rotten and polluted ſoul he intends to waſh and cleanſe it till it is without ſpot and wrinkle, or any ſuch thing. Thy ſtubborn proud earthly and luſtful heart, he can make humble, tender, ſoft and yielding. And when he hath made thee as he would, why may not he take thee to himſelf, and lay thee next his heart, and delight over thee everlaſtingly?
Object. But will his Father yield to this? I am too poor a match for the Son and heir of all things: But will he, can he ſuffer his Son to die to buy ſuch a beggarly thing to himſelf as I am?
Anſw. A way theſe ſilly ſimple childiſh thoughts; how like an inhabitant of this earthly ſenſual world doſt thou reaſon? thou wilt not under-match, and therefore will not God his Son? Thou fool, thou wilt not becauſe thou canſt find another equal. But doſt thou not know that God can find none equal to his Son; he muſt ſtoop, or elſe go without. It's true, he might have gone without, but what if he would not, why ſhould not Heaven have its will as well as thou? Thou haſt no dowry, and he doth need none, and yet thou argueſt as if Heaven would make traffick with his Son and his love, as we ſilly worms do here; but we are beggars, and ſo are Angels, and all the glorious Hoſts above, they are his Creatures, hang and depend upon him, and cannot ſubſiſt one moment happy without ſuplies and helps of his Grace; and why may he not bring a beggarly man as near to himſelf, as a beggarly Angel, if ſo it pleaſeth him?
Object. But doth it ſo pleaſe him?
Anſw. How often have I told thee it doth pleaſe him and haſt thou not believed? Come, if thy hearing will will not ſatisfy, let thy ſeeing do it. Look, if thou haſt eyes. Come tell me, doth not Heaven look as though it was pleaſed with the offer of his Son? What cloud or darkneſs doſt thou ſee about the Throne? What ſign or token of diſpleaſure canſt thou at all diſcover? Open thine eyes, view the God of Glory. Do his looks beſpeak him to be thy Father or thy Judge? And canſt thou not be read both Husband, Father and Lord, and all in his countenance? What not ſee it! ſurely thou art blind: If he had not told as much from his own mouth, his eyes and looks beſpeak his love and favour loud and clear enough to thee. But doth he not tell thee, to put thee out of all doubt, this is my well-beloved Son, hear him, hear him: What's that? believe him whatſoever he ſays, why, what ſaith he? O dull and ſtupid heart! haſt thou forgot already! He ſaid he will pay his life for thine; and doth not his Father bid thee hear him? He ſaid he would reconcile thee, love thee, and make thee friends again; And is it not comfort when the Father bids thee believe him: he ſaid, he will pardon, waſh and cleanſe thee, and take thee to himſelf, & betroth thee to him for ever, and after all will give thee to ſee his Glory, even the ſame Glory which he had before the World. And the Father is willing to all this, for he tells thee his Son, is his well-beloved Son, and bids thee believe him, and miſdoubt not one ſyllable. And canſt thou after all this doubt that the Father is not willing? But do not his Angels likewiſe, who are miniſtring ſpirits, with voice and looks proclaim as much, that Heaven is well-pleaſed with the Son, and with his Death and Paſſion, and ſo with thee in him? Do not the Angels admire the myſtery of Redeeming Grace, that makes them ſo deſirous to peep into it? Why did they proclaim his coming into the World, and ſing for joy that there was good will in Heaven to men on earth? or why do they ſo diligently attend thee by night and day? Thou ſeeſt them not keep guard about thy Chamber-door, and round about the Curtains of thy bed. Why do they attend thee from room to room, and follow thee down ſtairs, and out of doors, if it were not but that thou art ſome great Princeſs, nearly allied to their Lord and Maſter? Thou doſt not ſee this, blame then thine eyes, and the infidelity of thy heart; ſhall it be leſs true, becauſe thy baſe infidelity cannot digeſt it? Thou might doubt God, Heaven, and every thing elſe on that ſcore; but haſt thou not it from his own mouth, that the Angels are miniſtring ſpirits for the heirs of Glory? Come, tell me, I ſay, tell me quickly, I muſt have an anſwer, Can this, and all this be true, and Heaven yet not be pleaſed? If God with his Son and Angels be all content that thou ſhouldſt be reſtored, and ſo exalted to ſuch dignities as to be heir unto the Crown of Heaven; if theſe be pleaſed, who is there in Heaven that can elſe be diſpleaſed? What ſaith my heart? what not yet one word? Oh how long ſhall I be troubled and peſtered with my unbelief! Oh my God, ſtrike, chide, and break this flint, reprove this ſtubborn and unbelieving heart, I cannot perſwade it that thou loveſt me, or art willing to love me: I urge thy word, and my beſt reaſon to prove it, but I cannot make it yield. Oh break, I pray thee, this Flint or Adamant upon thy downy breaſt of love; ſtrike, and one blow of thine will make it fall in pieces, and confeſs at length that thou art well pleaſed with thy Son, and fully ſatisfied that he ſhould bleed and die for me. But let me try thee once again, if thou haſt loſt thine ears and eyes; I'le ſee if thou haſt loſt thy feeling too. Thou ſayſt thou canſt not believe that God is willing to accept the Son for thee, or that thou ſo vile a wretch canſt be accepted of by the Father through the merits of his Death and ſufferings. Come, tell me, is not this thy language? I know thou dareſt not to ſpeak ſo much in words. But ah! my Heart, I find thou haſt got a Tongue as well as my Mouth, that often mutters and ſpeaks a different language. But tell me if thy unbelief hath any ground for it? What makes it then that thy ſelf is ſo free from fears and terrours, when thou ſhouldeſt believe the Almighty, of thy Bodies Death, Reſurrection, and coming to Judgment, if thou thoughteſt him not thy friend, and reconciled to thee in his Son? if not, methinks thy fears ſhould fright thee, and trembling ſeize on every joynt; and yet thou wilt fooliſhly mutter againſt thine own feeling.
Soul Speaks]
O bleſſed God! I feel thou haſt overcome; I yield, I yield, I have not left a word to ſpeak againſt thy love; thy Son hath offered ſatisfaction, and thou haſt accepted it; thou haſt laid down, O my Saviour, thy life for mine; and thy Father and my Father is well pleaſed with it: Blood is paid, Juſtice is ſatisfied, Heavens doors are widened, thine arms opened to receive me; nothing is wanting but by heart; make it ſuch as thou wilt have it, and then take it to thy ſelf. Come up, my ſoul, thou haſt an heart, and there is a Chriſt; the Father thou ſeeſt is willing, and the Son is willing, give but thy conſent, and he is thine for ever. Fear not thy hardneſs, blindneſs, deadneſs, loathſomneſs, all theſe cannot hinder, if thou be but willing. He hath been in the world to ask the worlds conſent already, and alſo thine; thou canſt not doubt of his good-will; ſpeak but the word, and he hath thine too. What ſtickeſt thou at? ſurely thou art a ſluggiſh ſpirit; what doſt thou ail? Half of this ado would find a heart for a little mire or dirt, or ſomething elſe that is worſe, and is not Chriſt better? But ah! yet I feel a piece of unbelief ſtill working in thy very bowels, as if that Jeſus that died at Jeruſalem were not the Son of God, and the Redeemer of the World. And is this all? O were I certain thou wouldſt ne're doubt more, how freely ſhould I make ſatisfaction? But Oh! I faint and tire with the trips and ſtumblings of my unbelief. But mount, my Soul, thou muſt reſolve to tire and put to ſilence all thy unbelieving bablings, or they will thee; which, if they do, never expect an hours peace or quiet more; thou muſt reſolve to conquer thy unbelief, or to be conquered; thou knoweſt her tyranny too well to let her go away the victoreſs. He was not the Chriſt, thou ſayeſt, but tell me why?
Object. His Parentage was too low and mean; what the Saviour of the world a Carpenters Son! how can it be!
Anſw. My unbelief, in the firſt place thou lyeſt, his Mother was a Virgin, and her Conception knew no Father but the Almighty power of the overſhadowing Holy Ghoſt; he was more truly the Son of God than Joſeph's Son. And was his birth, thinkſt thou, ſo mean, whoſe Parentage was ſo glorious?
Object. His birth but mean and beggarly; no ſooner born, but cradled in a manger; and could Heaven ſuffer this?
Anſw. It conſiſts. But yet it was as glorious: for did not a Star proclaim him born? and did not a whole Hoſt of Angels ſing and ſhout it up for joy? and did not wiſe men, yea and Kings, bring Incenſe, Myrrh, and Frankinſenſe, being but as ſo much tribute, unto the newborn King and heir of all things, as if by inſtinct they knew they held their Crowns of him? a greater honour than ever any new born Prince hath yet received before him, or ever ſhall or will do after him.
Methinks, my unbelieving heart, I could dare to tell thee, that room was no ſtable, it was a Palace; and did not the coſt, preſents, and glorious preſence of Kings ſpeak as much?
Object. But his days were ſpent in poverty, meanneſs and diſgrace; and can I, dare I, truſt my ſoul with ſuch a one, and take him to be the Son of God?
Anſw. And now I wonder at thee! it's true what thou ſayeſt, if thou lookeſt upon him one way; his life was ſuch as thou telleſt me of; but 'tis a ſtrong argument againſt thy ſelf; for juſt ſuch a one was the Chriſt to be, according to the Prophets; the 53 Chap. of Iſa. ſhews as much. But yet if thou truly underſtandeſt what true pump and glory means, even to an eye of ſenſe as well as to that of faith, Solomon's life imbroidered with all his glorious acts, was not comparable to this life of his. Was it not filled with miracles and wonders? was he not proclaimed the Son of God with voices from Heaven? did he not conquer Devils, and therefore the Kingdom of Hell? Was ever Prince on Earth honoured with ſo great a Conqueſt? Were not his miraculous Feaſts more ſplendid than thoſe of Princes? the fare was but poor and mean, but the miracles made it rich and glorious. Had I been preſent, ſhould I not have wondered and gazed more at the Maſter of this Feaſt, and have taken more pleaſure to have ſeen him ſit down with theſe five thouſands, than with a Table full of Princes and great men? Alas, it were a trifling ſight to this. Methinks my unbelief that pleads ſo much for ſenſe, ſenſe it ſelf pleads too ſtrongly againſt thee, for thou canſt not argue one Syllable.
Object. But would the Son of God be hanged and crucified? could Heaven have ſuffered this? could not the Saviour of the World ſave himſelf? how could he then ſave me?
Anſw. Hadſt thou not the blindneſs of the Jews, thou couldeſt not reaſon thus like them; but was it not neceſſary it ſhould be ſo? Did not the Prophets foretell his death, and ſuch a death? Had he not died, and died as he did, I might then have had ſome ground to doubt him whether he were the Meſſias or not, for it was needful that the Prophecies ſhould be fulfilled, Dan. 9. But yet as wretched and as contemptible a going out of the world as he had, and his manner of dying on the Croſs, how vile ſoever it ſeemed to be, yet was there not enough to ſilence all the doubts that could poſſibly from thence ariſe, and much for the confirmation of my faith in the wonderful Eclipſe of the Sun, the rending of the veil of the Temple, the opening of the Graves, the raiſing of the dead, and afterwards his own riſing the third day, and aſcending up to Heaven in a Cloud? If my faith might have ſtaggered in ſeeing him on the Croſs dying, it could not when it ſaw him riſen, and in the Clouds aſcending.
Object. But were thoſe wonders true and certain?
Anſw. But haſt thou any ground to doubt them? are they not written in thy Bible? and art thou not certain that it is the word of God? or haſt thou not ſufficient reaſon to believe it to be ſo? But haſt thou not a whole Nation, yea Nations that do believe the ſame? and before this age, did not our Fathers, and Grandfathers, and great Grandfathers, and ſo continued a teſtimony of ages from the time that they were done, to this day, witneſs to the truth of them, and that ſo unanimouſly & reſolutely that ten thouſands have rather choſen to loſe their lives, than the truth of them. Now put all theſe together, and tell me, canſt thou doubt? Away, I ſee thou doſt but trifle; conſeſs the truth, or I am reſolved to heed thee no longer. Come, take and embrace that crucified Jeſus, account all things elſe but as loſs, and droſs, and dung in compariſon with him; ſtick not at his outward meanneſs, ſcruple not at his ignominious dying, it is the very Chriſt the Saviour of the world. Oh why ſhouldeſt thou thus torment me? Doſt thou not ſee all thy fellow-Chriſtians to glory in that Croſs, and in that Chriſt that died on it? Do they not bear it as a badge of honour, and ſhall it be to thee as ſhame? Do not all the Chriſtian World eat and drink as often as they can the Symbols of this their dying Lord? And do they not all ſing, and joy, and triumph in it? and wilt thou the while lye vexing thy ſelf over a company of needleſs fears and ſcruples? Farewell all needleſs doubts and tormenting queſtions, I ſee my faith is built on a Rock, blow winds, beat waves, you cannot now move me. Bleſſed God I thank thee, for thy Son, thou haſt given his life for the ſpoiler, thou haſt bowed his back to the enemies, long furrows have they plowed upon it, and the day of his calamity they laughed at. Lord: thou haſt wounded him for my ſins, and bruiſed him for my iniquities. Theſe ſpeak the depth of thy counſels, and the ways of thy mercy paſt finding out, and the tenderneſs of thy bowels. Thou haſt made him my Rock, and my ſhield, and my ſtrong tower, and in the day of my ſorrow through him thou wilt hear me. To thee, O God, will I make my vows, and to thee will I pay them; I will humble my ſelf before thee. I will always lye at the feet of my Redeemer. Lord! his Groſs and his ſhame ſhall be no more a ſtumbling-block to me, I will take it up and follow him, it ſhall be my Crown, my Song, and the glory of my rejoicing. I will enter into thy Courts with joy, and in the Congregations of thy Saints ſhall be my delight; I will remember thy loving-kindneſſes of old, and the days in which thou didſt afflict thy only Son for the ſins of my Soul. I will call to mind the Covenant of thy Grace; and my heart ſhall praiſe thee, when I ſee it founded on blood. Then will I betroth my ſelf to thy Son; join thou, Lord, both our hands and hearts, and we will ſtrike up a match for ever. Praiſe thou the Lord, Oh my ſoul, and all you that love and fear him, praiſe his holy name.
The SACRAMENT.
The Dreſs.
Lord, where am I! What! all the Children of the Bride-chamber up and dreſt, and I ſlumbring in my bed! Tell me ye faireſt, what make you up ſo early? Alas our Lord was up before us all. He called us up by break of day, and wondered that we were not triming our lamps, knowing with whom we were to feaſt this day. Oh well then I will riſe up too. Oh what a ſhew do theſe bright and glittering Saints make in mine eyes? What a brightneſs do theſe pearls and diamonds caſt in mine eyes! they do ſtrike me into amazement. Oh what a lovely humble look doth crown their brow and what a comly countenance hath joy and Heavenly delight caſt on their cheeks ſurely they did not thus dreſs themſelves it was my Father that made them thus prepar'd to entertain his Son. But where are my Clothes? Now for the faireſt, ſweeteſt robe of thoughts and wiſhes that can be ſound, or that the wardrobe of my Father can afford me. Oh how naked am I! But where are my ſilken golden twiſts of Faith to hang the jewels of joy and love, and humility upon? I am never dreſt till they be on. Oh where, where are they? I ſaw them by me but juſt now. I ſaid them by my heart before I went to bed. Oh what was I ſo long a reaſoning about? Oh what long and many threds did my reaſon ſpin even now, but to make theſe twines to tye up my joy, and to raiſe up my love, and to hang my Heavenly delight upon? But ah! I fear this envious world hath with her vanities ſtollen them away, or hid them from me; or the envious Devil, or unbelief have been ravelling or ſnarling of them, that now I am as far to ſeek as ever. Whither, O whither ſhall I go to find them out? Now, will the Bridegroom come, and I am not ready? I cannot, dare not go to day. Now will my Lord be angry, and ask me why I came not, and I have no anſwer to make him. And if I go undreſt, he will ask me, where is my Weding-garment, and then I ſhall be ſpeechleſs. Ah foollſh ſimple heart! that thou ſhouldſt take no more care but to let theſe thoughts of earth ſo intangle themſelves with thy ſo pure and heavenly contemplations! Now how to get them looſe again, thou knoweſt not; this thou mighteſt by heed and care have prevented; but now what help? Lord, I have ſinned; O holy Father pardon this time, and I will take more heed. Oh come and unty my thoughts from this earth, and come and dreſs me up as beſt pleaſeth thee. Come, be not diſcouraged, Oh my Soul! Let but thy attire of Grace be whole, that is, ſincere, thy God, and ſo thy Saviour will accept thee. Though thy garments are not ſo much perfumed with Heaven, as thy brethrens are, but yet if they are but white and free from the ſpots of fleſh and ſpirit, thou wilt be looked on and liked of well enough. Thy Lord doth know that all have not Talents alike; and where he gives but a little, he expects but little. A faith that it richly embroidered over with love and delight, is not given to all; and is not expected from any but from thoſe to whom it is given. Thou haſt an honeſt, willing, ſerious heart, that thinks it doth deſpiſe and trample under feet the neareſt, deareſt pleaſures, profits and glories in the world, in compare with him that gave himſelf to death for thee; and hadſt rather anger fleſh and blood, the darteſt friends, and all the world than him, by ſinning againſt him in the leaſt. If this be true, fear not, thou haſt thy Weding-garment on, thou art well clad; as mean ſo ever as it is, it is ſuch a one as Heaven gave thee, and ſuch a one as thy dear Redeemer can, and will embrace thee in.
The Preſence-Chamber.
Fear not, O my ſoul, I charge thee do not faint. Let not thy weakneſs, and the poverty of thy grace, diſcourage thee: …ee how thy Lord draws nigh. Fear not, I ſay, he will not ask thee, Friend, how cameſt thou hither not having on thy Wedding garment? He ſees thy heart, and ſees thou haſt it on. Oh he comes! and it is out to whiſper thee a welcome in thine ear; it is but to fall about thy neck and kiſs thy be-tear'd cheeks, and bid thee a kind welcome to thy bleeding Lord.
Soul.
Oh did I think to be thus much made of! I thought he would not have minded me; but I did no ſooner appear and ſet my feet within the doors, but he ran to meet me; he took mee in his arms, he brought me hither, and ſet me here. Is this a houſe, or is it a Palace? Is this a Court for Princes, or for Angels? Never did place more raviſh me into amazement than this place! Beautiful are thy gates, O Zion! O how pleaſant is the habitation of the moſt high! Is it the place or the company that ſtrikes me into aſtoniſhment! Now I can ſay, moſt feelingly ſay with David, My delights are with the Saints of the moſt high, and the moſt excellent of the earth. Their poverty, their diſgrace, their contempt amongſt whom they live, do not puzzle my quickey'd Faith; theſe are the Kings Daughters that are all glorious within, their garments are of needle work, imbroidered over with pure gold, fine-ſpun gold. Theſe! O theſe! how poor and mean ſoever they are, or may ſeem to be, theſe ſhall ſit with Chriſt to Judge the World. Oh! how my ſoul is raviſhed with delight, to ſee and look on thoſe with whom I ſhall live for ever! If they are ſo lovely now, what will they be hereafter, when our God ſhall take them, and ſcowr off their ruſt, and waſh their Garments bright in the Sun-ſhine of his countenance, and change thoſe mortal and corruptible bodies into immortal and glorious ones; and ſet them upon Thrones, about himſelf, and lade their heads with Crowns of maſſy gold; and when I ſhall hear them warbling out the everlaſting Praiſes of the Lamb, whoſe Body and Blood we ſhall ſit down to feed on!
Communion-Plate.
Never was Gold or Silver graced thus before,
To bring this Body and this Blood to us, is more
than to Crown Kings,
or be made Rings
For Star-like Diamonds to glitter in.
The Bread.
Welcome Faireſt, take and eat; 'tis the ſweeteſt dainties, deareſt morſel Heaven can afford thee. Welcome, my Dear, to the Table of my Lord. Welcome a thouſand times, I bid thee; yea, welcomer than thine own heart can wiſh. Take, eat this morſel, it coſt my life; it's a portion thy Father ſent unto thee by me, and bid me remember thee of his love to thee. He bids thee remember a Fathers love, Ay, a Saviours. He hath a heart to give thee, and ſo have I. Take this in earneſt of them both in one. Take freely; if thou wert not welcome, I would have told thee; I would have asked thee for thy Weding-Garment, knew I not thy heart; or if I were uncertain of thy love, I would have ſcorn'd thee as unworrhy of my preſence; did I know thou loveſt any thing above me, I would have hid my face, and never have ſpoke thee a welcome ſo feelingly and kindly to thy ſoul. Tell me, O tell me! doſt thou not love me? I know thou doſt; and above Father or Mother, Wife or Child, Lands or Living, or Credit; I know thou doſt. And wilt thou not take the Croſs and ſollow me? I know thou wilt, I ſee and know the labour of thy love; I remember the pains and travel of thy ſoul; I ſaw thee follow me on thy knees in tears, and begged my life rather than thy life. I know thy heart, I ſaw it bleeding before my Throne; I took it in my arms and bound it up, and in that breaſt I remember I put it up again; I ſaw thee when no eye ſaw thee; I heard thee, and had compaſſion on thy groanings, whilſt thou wert complaining that I had ſhut out thy prayers; I will remember ſince thy heart did firſt fall ſick with love, ſince the time thy fleſh began to die, and ſince thou laidſt thy ſelf in the grave down by me, and wert willing to die to all this vain empty glory of the world, becauſe I died & left it. I know thee well enough, Thou art mine, and I am thine. Take it, I charge thee; eat it as thou loveſt me; and whilſt thou feedeſt, remember the love of thy deareſt Redeemer.
Soul.
Oh 'tis the ſweeteſt meat that ever tongue did taſt; it ſends a reliſh to my very heart; I find it digeſt s as it deſcends; I feel my nerves and ſinews ſtrengthen; I never knew that bread was the ſtaff of life till now; Oh how fit is my ſoul now for Chriſt? How eaſie do I now find his yoke; how light his burden! Methinks I could watch or pray, or read more earneſtly, reſolvedly, believingly, than ever. Oh! methinks I can take his Croſs & bear it ſtrongly, and take the ſhame and deſpiſe it ſully. Oh 'tis a feaſt of fat things! The richeſt banquet of love that ever I was at; it was but a little that I took, and it fills me full, my hungry ſtomach now crye, 'tis enough, I find it now verified to my ſoul and ſpirit, that he that eats of this bread ſhall never hunger more. Well, I need not ſtarve when there is ſuch bread in my Fathers houſe. I need not, I will not, I cannot feed any longer on husks with the ſwine of the world. I fed on air and ſmoke before; I never taſted ſubſtantial bread till I taſted of this. This is the ſtaff of my life, and upon this will I ſupport my ſelf to my very grave.
The Wine.
Chriſt.
Come my Deareſt, I have drunk, and thou ſhalt pledge me: I have broached my ſide, and drew it on purpoſe for thee. This is a Wine of mine own making, when I trod the Winepreſs of my Fathers wrath. It is my blood; but take and drink it; it was the cauſe of my wounding, but to thy ſoul it ſhall prove healing. I died and bled, it was but to make this Banquet for thee. I have brought thee into my Wine-cellar, and my Banner over thee ſhall be love. Fear not, take and drink, thou haſt an ulcer in thy heart, and this ſhall cure it; ſpots and ſtains of guilt on thy ſoul, and this ſhall purge them away; thy ſpirits are faint, this ſhall revive thee, thou art afraid to ſee thy Fathers face, this ſhall make thee to draw near the Throne of Grace with boldneſs. Drink, I charge thee; drink on thy love and loyalty to me. I command thee as thou wilt have thy heart to mend, thy wounds to cure, thy ſpirits to revive, thy fears to ſcatter, thy ſoul to love and obey me, take, O take this cup into thy hand, taſte it, and praiſe my love.
Soul.
Lord! I have taken, I have drunk as thou haſt bid me, I neither could, or dare deny thee. Can I refuſe thy blood when I have accepted thy ſelf? Or can I accept my pardon at thy hands, and refuſe the Seal thereof? I know I am vile, I am vile, but thou haſt pardoned me. Lord, I have abuſed thy love, a thouſand times refuſed thy offered ſelf, and withſtood the tenders of thy Grace; but thou haſt covered all my ſins, thou haſt freely juſtified me by thy Grace, and made a full atonement for me by thy blood; this is that thou freely biddeſt me take, and I have freely drunk it. Never was Wine ſo full as this is. Never was Bowl ſo full of pleaſure as this. I have ſwallowed down my life and pardon at one draught: I took it from my Saviours hand, it was a cup of his own preparing. If ever drink was ſugared, this was! I never taſted better relliſht Wine in all my life!
The richeſt Cordials cannot match this draught Divine,
Spirits of pearls diſſolved would but dead this Wine.
Oh when my hopes but kiſt the purple dews, they hung and cleaved ſo,
As if they were loth to let thee go.
They ſtrove and ſtrugled to get near my heart,
As if intending there to take a part.
I dare not ſay them nay; blood from that Bowl
May the beſt room command within my ſoul.
What a ſudden, ſtrange, yet happy alteration do I find within! my languid ſpirits are revived; my winter is over. Methinks I feel my life and joy to ſpring a main. My Aarons Rod (a dry ſtick but now) doth bloom and flouriſh. My newly ingrafted ſoul is full of Infant-cluſters.
Blood at the root of Vines
They ſay produce the richeſt Wines.
Oh! if my Lord will undertake to dreſs this Vine, and trickle down his blood into my root, then draw it up into each branch of Grace by the warming beam of his reviving love; then let my Dears eſt come, let him come as he hath promiſed, and bring my Father and his Father with him, and ſup both with me and in me. Let them come, and I will bid them a welcome, I ſhall have a fruit to preſent them with, which they themſelves ſhall ſay is pleaſant; I ſhall not ſend my Father away now ſo oft complaining, I came to ſeek for grapes and fruit, but behold wild ones.
The Concluſion.
Oh! how unwillingly do I riſe! methinks I could ſit here and feaſt my heart and eyes for ever. What running-Banquets doth my Lord afford me here! ſurely he ſhould not need to fear that I ſhould ſurfeit on himſelf. But alas! I muſt be gone, what ſhall I do in yonder hungry ſoul-ſtarving world again? I have been feeding on my Paſchal Lamb, and now I muſt go and eat my ſowre herbs; but if it be his will, I muſt obey; if it be ſo, I muſt ariſe: I know thou haſt prepared the endleſs feaſt above, where I ſhall ever ſit and enjoy thy love, and glut my hungry eye and heart on the Banquet of thy everlaſting ſelf. As yet I am now on earth, my toil and work lyes heavy on my hands, I have yet an afternoon to labour out, God knows my work is hard, too hard for me my ſelf to perform. I ſcarcely ſhould have laſted out ſo long, but that ometimes at ſuch ſeaſons as this is, he repaired my ſinking ſpirits by pouring in the Cordials of his Blood. Now I muſt go and perhaps find as ſharp conflicts with my ſelf as ever. I know the World and Hell have been laying their ſnares and gins to catch my new-fledg'd ſoul; and all conſpire againſt my welfare. Now it is well if I eſcape a fall, a bruiſe, a breaking of my bones, in which ſad plight I have ſo often lain, that my Lord might have took me for dead, but that my groanings told him loudly I lived. Lord! muſt I leave this feaſt? muſt I go? Take me then by the hand, and lead me; if I muſt walk, let me ſee thee by me, that I may know I walk with my God. Lead me away, and I will go with thee; and let me not go till thou bringeſt me hither again; I cannot, will not live without thee. And do thou Lord, ſay, I muſt not, ſhall not.
If both our hearts in love ſo well agree,
What then ſhall ſeparate my Chriſt from me?