Advice to a Friend, Part 15
XV.
AND now is there any need to uſe many words, to ſhow how much force there is in the Meditation of Death to make you lively? It is the common opinion, that all things intend themſelves more earneſtly, and act in the extremity, when they meet with their contrary, which threatens their deſtruction: As Springs are hotteſt in the coldeſt ſeaſons, and Fire it ſelf moſt ſcorching in froſty weather. Even ſo if we ſet Death very ſeriouſly before our mind, and laid the thoughts of it cloſe to our heart, would it cauſe our life to be more full of Life. We ſhould gather together all our might, to do as much as we can; if we lookt upon our ſelves, as going to the Grave; where there is no work to be done at all.
The mind of Man is too apt to feed it ſelf with the fancy of ſeveral pleaſures, that either Nature affords, or Art hath invented. Among all which a good natur'd mind findes none ſo delicious; as the conceit which frequently ſtarts up in it, of the exceſſive pleaſure he ſhould enjoy, were he always in the company of a Friend whom he loves intirely, and might they ſpend their days, even as they liſt themſelves, and diſpoſe of all their Hours according to their own inclinations. But if a thought of Death interpoſe it ſelf when he is in the height of this delight, it daſhes all theſe fine Bubbles of the imagination in pieces: All's gone, and vaniſhes into a ſigh; or there is nothing of them remains, but a drop as big as a tear. And therefore if it be ſo ſharp a curb to the forwardneſs of our deſires, and ſerve as a Bridle to hold in our headſtrong paſſions; we may uſe it alſo as a good Spur to prick them on, when they are too ſluggiſh, and to ſtir them up when they have no liſt to move at all.
When we are ready to fall aſleep, did we but think of dying, it would make us ſtart and ſay; Who would ſleep and dream away his time in this manner, when, for any thing he knows, he hath but a few Sands left in his Glaſs? Death is coming to draw the Curtains about me, and to make my Bed for me in the duſt; Awake then, up, and be doing, becauſe there is a long Night near at hand, wherein we muſt reſt and not work. And is it not a very great grace, if for ſo ſmall, ſo ſhort a work, we ſhall receive ſo vaſt, ſo long a reward? It is a great ſhame to ſtand all the day idle, if it be but for this very reaſon, that our beſt diligence, though it could be continued for many more years than it is like to be, can never deſerve ſuch a recompence.
Place your ſelf therefore, as if you were upon your Death-bed, and think with what ardent deſires, with what paſſionate groans, with what an heartful of ſighs, you would ſeek after God, if your Soul was juſt taking its flight out of this Body; and perhaps this will ſend it out beforehand in the like ſighs and groans, which will help to waft You towards Heaven. Juſt as when a man is to write to the deareſt Friend he hath in the World, and thinks they are the laſt Lines that ever he ſhall ſend him; his very heart diſſolves and drops it ſelf into his Pen: So would all our affections melt and flow forth towards God, if we ſeemed to our ſelves, as if we ſhould never ſpeak to him more with a Tongue of Fleſh, nor look upon him through theſe Windows of Clay; but ſhould ſhortly dwell in ſilence, and go down into the Houſe of Darkneſs. O how would our Souls thirſt for God (as David ſpeaks) for the living God! How much ſhould we love him, and endeavour to confirm our friendſhip with him! that when our Bodies are diſpoſed of into the Earth, our Souls might ſtill live and rejoyce with Him in Heaven; expecting alſo a bleſſed Reſurrection.
And if you ſay that in this ſtate of dulneſs, that I am ſpeaking of, a Soul is fit to think of nothing; this thing will tell you how it alarms the heart, and makes it muſter up its thoughts, and collect its ſcattered Forces, that it may be in a readineſs to receive the approaches of Death, and its aſſault upon us. And the thoughts of it, at ſuch a time, are the more natural and eaſie, becauſe there is nothing more like to Death than this unactive and ſluggiſh temper; when the Soul ſeems as if it were buried in the Body, and intombed already in this Vault of Fleſh.
And it would be very eaſy to ſhow how much every one of the foregoing counſels would be improved, by our frequent converſation, on all occaſions, with our Graves. It would excite our minds to enquire after another World; and make us very deſirous to find it out. It would raiſe our eſteem of the great love of God, who hath given us ſuch aſſurance of a never dying life. It would carry away our thoughts from this Earth, as not the place of our ſetled abode. It would preſently ſend them above; and bid them ſee the pleaſures which we do but imagine here, in their full growth, and perfection of joy and happineſs there. O how delightful would Religion and Vertue be unto us, which is the only thing we can carry away with us? How curious ſhould we be to judg aright, that Death may not be the firſt thing that ſhall undeceive us? How would it open our heart, as I ſaid, to pour out it ſelf in devout affections to God? and what a comfort would theſe be to us, if the records of them were ſpread before us at our dying hour? This is ſo far from being an enemy to chearfulneſs, that it is a forcible reaſon why we ſhould freely enjoy all that God hath given us, becauſe we muſt ſhortly leave it. Our Friends alſo we ſhall therefore be enclined to embrace more ardently, and do them the more good, and covet their company, becauſe we have not long to ſtay with them. For when I ſaid the thoughts of Death are apt to reſtrain our too forward deſires, I did not mean that it checks or abates our love to our Friends. No; Love is strong as Death, and hard (or unyielding) as the Grave: the Coals thereof are Coals of Fire, a moſt vehement flame; as Solomon ſpeaks, VIII. Cant. 6. It burns, that is, like the Fire on the Altar (for in the Hebrew the laſt words are; the Flame of God) which came down from Heaven and never went out. Nothing can conquer it, no not Death which conquers all Fleſh. That can only teach us not to place our chief contentment in any thing here; no, not in the beſt good in this World, though never ſo dear unto us: becauſe it may ſhortly leave us only its ſhaddow, the image of it in our memory; which putting us in mind of our forepaſt pleaſures will make us ſo much the more ſad, if we have not hope to find that good improved, by its departure from us, in another World. And is not the uſe of a Friend then moſt viſible, when we think of our departure, by whom as I ſaid, in one of the former Diſcourſes, we ſhall ſtill remain with thoſe whom we leave behind? But what Friend is there like to our bleſſed Lord; whoſe love we ſhall the oftner remember by commemorating his Death, if we think of our own? We cannot chuſe but be excited to prepare our ſelves thereby, for an happy and chearful diſſolution. And why ſhould we not truſt God with all we have for a little time, whom we muſt ſhortly intruſt with Soul and Body to all Eternity? But I liſt not to prolong this Diſcourſe, with ſuch collections as theſe; which I will leave to your own thoughts, with this Prayer, wherewith you may awaken your mind, when you find it neceſſary.
A PRAYER.
THou art worthy, O Lord, of all Praiſe, Glory and Honour; by whoſe Omnipotent Will, and for whoſe pleaſure, all things in Heaven and Earth were created, and by whoſe indulgent Providence they are continually maintained and preſerved. They ſhall periſh, but thou ſhalt endure: yea all of them ſhall wax old like a Garment:102. Pſal. 26.73.26. as a Veſture ſhalt thou change them, and they ſhall be changed. But thou art the ſame, and thy Years ſhall have no end. I proſtrate my ſelf before Thee in an humble ſenſe, that I am but ſinful duſt and aſhes; who have nothing to glory in, neither riches, nor strength, nor wiſdome; but only this (O how happy is it for me!) that I know thee, the ever living God, the Rock of Ages, the only ſolid foundation of our comfort and joy, who when my Fleſh and my Heart faileth, wilt be the strength of my Heart, and my Portion for ever.
I am now preſenting my Soul and Body to Thee, in perfect health: but cannot tell where I ſhall be the next moment, or whether I ſhall live to breath out the deſires of my Soul, once more, unto Thee. For in thy hand is the breath of our Noſtrils, and when thou pleaſeſt we are turned to deſtruction. We dwell in Houſes of Clay, whoſe foundation is in the duſt; and they are daily crumbling and mouldering away, ſo that we know not how ſoon they will vaniſh and be ſeen no more. O how ſerious ſhould the thoughts of this make me in all my addreſſes unto Thee? How dead to all the ſinful enjoyments of this World? How holy and pure? How heavenly minded and ſpiritual? How ready to do good, and to communicate to others thoſe things which I muſt ſhortly leave? How diligent to aſſure my ſelf thereby of better enjoyments, & to make friends in Heaven; that when I go hence I may be received into everlaſting Habitations?
I ſee, O Lord, now that I think of my departure, how unprofitable my too many cares are for the things of this life: How vain my eager deſires after unneceſſary riches, and honours: how trifling all my pleaſures; and that there is no ſolid happineſs but in thy love, and a pious hope of immortality. O my God, be ſo good to me as to turn my thoughts frequently toward my latter end: and to fix in my mind a lively ſenſe of the uncertainty of my being, and the fickleneſs of all things belonging to it. That, ſince I muſt ſhortly leave them all, even my deareſt Friends and Kindred, and this body too, (which muſt be turned into corruption) I may moſt zealouſly endeavour to ſecure thy love and friendſhip in a better life, by the conſtant, chearful and earneſt exerciſe of all godlineſs and vertue, while I tarry here.
Help me to be as humble and lowly as the duſt to which I am going: to bury all anger, hatred, and enmities, ſince we muſt needs dye,2 Sam. 14.14. and be as Water ſpilt upon the Ground, which cannot be gathered up again: to diſcharge my mind of all ſuperfluous cares, and of immoderate love of dying things: to enjoy them innocently and chearfully: to do good with them heartily, and to envy no Man's greater proſperity: to ſuffer evil, and to take the loſs of them patiently: to admire that mercy which still prolongs ſo frail a life as mine is: and eſpecially to admire the gracious terms of thy holy Goſpel, which, for our ſhort labours or ſufferings here, hath promiſed us the reward of an endleſs life in a better place. Diſpoſe me likewiſe to be willing to leave this World, and to be always in a readineſs for my departure: that I may never be ſurpriſed with ſudden Death, nor obey thy ſummons with an heavy heart; but freely reſign my ſpirit unto Thee, who gaveſt it.
O how much do I deſire the continuance of theſe holy thoughts and inclinations: that ſo I may have ſuch a love to this world, as is conſiſtent with my hope of Heaven; and be ſo buſied in earthly affairs, that my heart may be there, where my treaſure is; and be tyed to my friends in ſuch affection, that we may not be eternally divorced. And the nearer I draw to that eternal World, O that I may be the more pure and ſeparated from all worldly mixtures; and the clearer ſight and proſpect I may have of my happineſs; and attain the greater aſſurance of thy love; and be the fuller of joy in hope of thy glory. Pitty my preſent weakneſs; increaſe my strength; help me not only to reſiſt, but to overcome all temptations; enable me to diſcharge the duties of my ſeveral relations; prepare me for all varieties of conditions; that in proſperity I may not forget Thee, nor imagine in adverſity that thou forgetteſt me, but in all I may be the ſame, and have the ſame thoughts of thee, love to thee, and delight in Thee, till I come to an unchangeable goodneſs and happineſs with the Lord Jeſus.
Amen.