The Glorious Epiphany with the Devout Christians Love, Chapter 12
CHAP. XII. Other Reaſons why we ſhould love his appearing, drawn from the love we have to our ſelves.
THus I have made a fair way, to introduce the ſecond thing which I propounded, for the compleating of this Diſcourſe. Wherein I am to ſhow, how the natural Affection we all bear to our ſelves, ſhould powerfully diſpoſe us to love the Appearing of our Lord Jeſus. And this will admit of no leſs than theſe TEN Conſiderations: which will inſtantly, at the very firſt hearing, win our aſſent to the truth of them. For,
I.
Firſt, We cannot but paſſionately deſire, if we have any belief of this Appearing, to ſee ſo great an honour, as will then be done to our Nature. So great, that no ſoul, who is poſſeſſed with a lively ſenſe of it, can be tempted any longer to envy the greatneſs of the nobleſt Perſons; no, not the high dignity of the bleſſed Angels. The brighteſt of the Cherubins ſhould not be ſo grievous to us, as to hurt our eyes; nor the flames of the Seraphims touch us with the leaſt ſpark of indignation, to ſee our ſelves ſo much excelled by them: But we ſhould rather wiſh they were more glorious and illuſtrious; becauſe the greater they are, the greater will the advancement of our nature be, which, at the appearing of Chriſt, will ſhine in a place ſo far above the higheſt of them.
Thoſe heavenly Creatures indeed are ſo ſplendid; that we poor mortals, even the holieſt of us, were wont to be afraid at their appearance. They are too glittering for our weak eyes to behold: too full of luſtre, for us, who dwell in theſe caves of darkneſs, to converſe withall. Whence it was, that ſome pious people, in ancient times, preſently concluded they ſhould dye, if they ſaw an Angel: imagining that his buſineſs, when he appeared, was to fetch their ſouls from their bodies; in which while they lived, they were not fit for ſuch Society. And other excellent perſons were ſo amazed at the glory of theſe celeſtial Miniſters, that they thought of paying them no leſs than religious honour; and prepared themſelves to fall down before them and worſhip them as Gods.
O what an happineſs then will it be, to ſee our Natures ſo improved and exalted; that we ſhall be able to entertain their company, without any trembling at all: and inſtead of thoſe paralytick fears, be only ſtruck with a delightful ſenſe of the moſt harmonious joyes? What a glory will it be unto us, what a joy, to find our ſelves made equal to thoſe, whom we took for Gods? To behold our ſelves as bright as thoſe celeſtial fires; which were wont to dazzle the eyes of the greateſt ſouls, and poſſeſs them with an apprehenſion, that they were Divine Beings?
But eſpecially we ought to conſider, what an honour, what a ſatisfaction it will be, to behold, not ſo few as one, or two, or a thouſand of thoſe beautiful Creatures but, the whole Heavenly Court, (whom we were ready to adore) come all with bended knees, and humbly proſtrate themſelves in the moſt profound adorations, at the feet of our ever bleſſed Saviour, Chriſt Jeſus. Into what a rapture will it caſt us, to behold our Nature ſo advanced; that all the Gods ſhall approach and worſhip this ſame Jeſus, who was ſo debaſed and abuſed? A moſt glorious and delightful ſight it will be, to behold him in the head of all thoſe Heavenly Hoſts: to ſee all the air filled, with the ſeveral Legions of Holy Angels: to behold every Troop in that glorious Camp, paying their reſpect to our far more glorious Lord; and with their ſhouts and joyful acclamations following him, as their General and chief Commander: And all the Powers of Darkneſs likewiſe crouching at his feet, quaking at his Majeſtick Preſence, diſarmed of all their weapons, and confeſſing themſelves the Captives and Slaves of this victorious Prince, Chriſt Jeſus.
O my ambitious deſires, where are you? What is become of you, O my aſpiring thoughts? You that uſed to be ever climbing aloft, and perpetually heaving up my heart; whither are you gone, or into what dulneſs are you now ſunk down? What is the matter that you lye aſleep; when ſo fair an object preſents it ſelf, to awaken and rouze you up? What ailes you, that I do not feel you ſtir; who were wont, with leſs temptations, to be all on fire?
Is there any thing we can reaſonably thirſt after with ſo much ardor, as to have all the world behold us made the companions of Angelical Natures? What is there that you can fancy a higher glory, than to ſee this fleſh of ours taking place of the Heavenly Spirits? To behold all the Armies of Heaven and Earth, waiting upon the ſupreme Judge of the World, the Man Chriſt Jeſus?
Get up then, get up, and pray perpetually that this moſt bleſſed time may come. Rouze up your ſelves, and in your moſt paſſionate wiſhes, fly before-hand thitherward. Let this be the But at which you ſhoot, the mark at which you alwayes aim, O my winged thoughts, and haſty deſires. Let this be the end of all your labours, O my buſie and reſtleſs powers. And content your ſelves in any conditino, till this moſt happy ſtate ſhall come. Live upon this joyful hope. Chear up your ſelves with theſe moſt comfortable expectations. They cannot be utterly miſerable, no, they muſt needs be very happy whatſoever their troubles be, who look for ſuch an incomparable glory.
Rejoyce therefore, and more than that, make your boaſt in this perpetually; that one day Angels themſelves, who are out of the reach of our preſent calamities, ſhall not excel you: But if there be any difference, it ſhall be only ſuch as was between the men of Judah and the men of Iſrael (at the bringing back of King David to his Throne) that you ſhall be able to call this great Son of David BONF OF YOƲR BONE, AND FLESH OF YOƲR FLESH, when the higheſt Angels can challenge no ſuch intereſt in him.
O moſt bleſſed Hope! the ſtaff of our Life; the ſtay and the ſtrength of our Hearts! The ſecurity of the happy, and the ſanctuary of the afflicted! that which preſerves our joyes from becoming ſowre, and which ſweetens the bitterneſs of all our miſeries! Our Reſt, our Peace, our higheſt Satisfaction!
It is enough that I am owner of ſuch a glorious Hope. Be thou ever in mine eye; be thou ever in my heart. I will walk, and labour all the dayes of my life in this holy Hope. And I will lye down at laſt in hope; that Thou who now ſendeſt down thy Angels to miniſter unto us, wilt call us up unto thy ſelf, and make us to ſit with thee in thoſe Heavenly Regions.
O come, come Lord Jeſus, that we may be all ſo happy. And till thou comeſt, deſcend ſometimes into this heart, which loves thee and longs for thee: and lift it up unto thee, in more ardent deſires, earneſt indeavours, and holy hopes: to ſee thy glory, and to appear in glory together with thee.
II.
It will be very ſtrange, if we believe in Chriſt, and be not poſſeſſed with theſe deſires; when we attend to the ſecret inclinations there are in every one of our hearts, to wiſh we might be bleſſed with the ſight of him, who is ſo lovely, and who hath loved us ſo much; whom hitherto our eyes have never ſeen.
For did any body ever hear of a moſt excellently accompliſht perſon, full of the moſt obliging kindneſs to him, and that had infinitely merited of him, and deſigned all the honour in the world for him; and not feel a moſt paſſionate longing deſire burning in him, to behold the face of this Great man, who had an heart ſo tender, ſo noble, and ſo graciouſly affected towards him?
This is our caſe; who live in theſe remote places and ages of the world, and have heard indeed, with the hearing of the ear, of Chriſt Jeſus our Deareſt Saviour; and of his incomparable love; and of the honour he hath done us, and ſtill intends to do us: But have not yet been ſo happy, as to have our eyes intertained, much leſs ſatisfied, with the bliſsful ſight of him; as theirs were who lived near him, and converſed with him at his firſt appearing. If we had any hope therefore of his appearing again, though in leſs ſplendor than I have told you, we could not but look up unto Heaven, where he lives, with earneſt expectations, and ſay; When will he come, when will he come, and manifeſt himſelf viſibly unto us? Becauſe, as yet, we know nothing of him but by the report of thoſe, who had the honour to be EYE-WITNESSES OF HIS MAJESTY.
We have been told by them that they ſaw this amiable and gracious perſon, and clearly diſcerned that he was God manifeſted in the fleſh. They have aſſured us that he was born of a ſpotleſs Virgin; that his name was Jeſus; that he was acknowledged the Son of God, by voices from Heaven, and by the deſcent of the Holy-Ghoſt in a viſible manner upon his head; and yet that he was contented to become poor and mean, that he might inrich us; to ſuffer his hands, and his feet, and his heart to be pierced, that he might heal our wounds: yea, we have heard that he deſcended into the lowermoſt parts of the Earth for our Salvation; and that he roſe from the dead again after three dayes; and that he aſcended up on high, and now ſits at the right hand of the Father; and will come again to judge the world, and to take up his faithful Servants unto himſelf.
And moſt comfortable news all this is, which hath arrived at our ears; and we muſt needs with all thankfulneſs dutifully acknowledge, that we are marvellouſly beholden to the Almighty Goodneſs, which hath taken ſuch care to perſwade and fully aſſure us of its truth. But ſtill every pious heart that ſincerely and ardently loves Him is apt to ſay;
When will he come again; that then we may ſee, as now we believe the certain truth of all this; which we have heard of him with our ears? When ſhall we be ſatisfied by ſuch evidence as the Apoſtles, and other of his Attendants had; who beheld his perſon, and ſaw his glory, as the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth? May not we alſo hope to be as they were, eye-witneſſes of his Majeſty?
O when will his holy Angels deſcend unto us, and ſay, as they did to them; Come, and ſee that he is riſen? When ſhall we hear a voice from Heaven, ſaying; come up hither, and behold my beloved Son, in whom I am ever well pleaſed? When will the trump of the Archangel ſound; and proclaim in all our ears, that he is Judge of quick and dead? O how many days muſt we ſtay and wait, before we riſe again, to aſcend up to him where he is? How long will it be, before we leave this earth, to behold him exalted at the right hand of the Majeſty on high?
O moſt gracious Saviour, who haſt done ſuch great things for us; Come, and let us ſee that thou art alive, and ſtill loveſt us! Come, and put us out of all doubt, that thou liveſt for evermore! Let us behold thoſe bright, thoſe loving eyes, which wept ſo oft, and with ſo much kindneſs over us! Let us ſee that ſweet, and now moſt glorious face; which ſweat as it had been drops of blood for our ſake! Stretch forth thoſe hands, that were wounded in our ſervice; O ſtretch them out, to lay hold on us, and lift us up to the viſion of thee! Do not long defer, before thou letteſt us enjoy, what we now believe. Make no long tarrying, O bleſſed Lord, but turn the faith of thy ſervants into ſight. And by thy ſecond appearing, be pleaſed to make us as ſure, as thou didſt thoſe, who then lived, by thy firſt.
We are perſwaded that the fame of thoſe things which we wait for, is nothing comparable to the ſight of them. We cannot but think that all preſent reports fall far ſhort, infinitely ſhort of future enjoyment. Thy type, the great Solomon, O Lord, puts us in mind of thee; and makes us more deſirous to ſee thee. We would fain go, like the Queen of Sheba, from theſe furthermoſt parts of the earth; that we may ſtand before thee in thy heavenly Jeruſalem. Not the half, we believe, of thy Magnificence hath been related to us. No, not the ſhadow of thy glory and Majeſty hath been brought to theſe far diſtant climates; where we hear little or nothing of thee.
Nay, we believe we cannot now underſtand thy greatneſs, if it ſhould be all related to us. If we ſhould ſee thee as thou art, in thy royal apparel, on the Throne of thy Glory, with all thy Heavenly Attendants and noble Miniſters round about thee; there would be no more ſpirit left within us. We ſhould faint away under the weight of that ſight; unleſs thou, O Lord, wouldſt disburden us of this fleſh, and make us become all Spirit.
And that's the happineſs indeed, which we deſire; and groan in Spirit till we injoy. There is no greater good we can wiſh, than to be caught up from this earth; and have eyes beſtowed upon us, bright and ſtrong enough to behold thy Majeſty. We cannot but long for this; that we may ſtand in thy preſence, and be ſatisfied with thee: that we may ſee thee, who haſt loved us, and given thy ſelf for us: thee whoſe love hath won our hearts, and conducted us thus far in our way towards thee: thee who art our hope; and with whom our life is hid: That we may ſee thee, O Lord, in the height of thy glory, and thy face may ſhine upon us, and our eyes ſparkle for joy with the light of thy Countenance: Of which we are the more deſirous, becauſe we never yet had the favour to ſee thee, who art ſo dear unto us.
O favour us therefore ſo much, moſt gracious Lord, as to come and gratifie our deſires, with that unknown, that long lookt for ſight of thee.
III.
And there is ſtill a greater reaſon to deſire it, and to be in love with his appearing; becauſe then we hope to be perfected and conſummated in Love.
This is an affection, you have heard, ſo pleaſurable; that we are inticed thereby, or rather ſweetly forced to ſtrain our ſouls to the utmoſt expreſſion of it. When we have found an object worthy of this paſſion, the delight it gives us invites, nay compels, our hearts to the moſt abundant effuſion of it; that ſo we may not want the higheſt degree of delight and joy.
But alas! Love in this world, though exceeding ſweet, is not, as we uſually ſpeak, all Hony; but there is ſome bitterneſs mingled together with it. The heart that is ſtruck with it receives a wound (which cannot be perfectly healed till it enjoys its deſires) and that you know is not without the company of anguiſh and pain.
1. For we find that when men admit into their hearts the love of any mortal creature like themſelves, the ſoul which before was whole, unbroken and intire, is as it were ſeparated and torn by this paſſion, both from it ſelf and all other objects; ſave only that which hath engaged its affection. Now all men know that no heart can be thus parted and divided, without a ſenſe of grief and ſmart, attending on ſuch a divulſion and rending of it from it ſelf: till it feel that ſoul, which it loves as another ſelf, effectually joyned to it.
And then (2.) we find that after it hath obtained well aſſured hopes of this; yet thoſe eager deſires and longings that are in this paſſion, ſtill carry their ſting in them; and make the heart but ill at eaſe until they be accompliſhed. Both which it were eaſie to apply to that devout affection, wherewith pious ſouls are touched towards our bleſſed Saviour; which is very unquiet and full of trouble, till they know and feel that he loves them.
3. But I ſhall rather obſerve (which is peculiar to this holy love) that the wounds, as I may call them, which are made in any heart by the wonderful kindneſs of our Saviour, who loved us ſo much as to dye for us, are wont very oft to be a torment to it; becauſe it can love him no more, and doth not feel ſuch vehement tranſports of affection to him, as it deſires, and he hath merited.
And then (4.) though we are fully perſwaded that we do ſincerely and heartily love him; yet this proves a great trouble to us, here in this preſent ſtate, that we fancy him ſometimes to be a ſtranger to us; and he ſeems to treat us, as if he were ſuſpicious of our Love.
And (5.) when we have the greateſt ſenſe of his moſt tender mercies, and he ſheds abroad his love in our hearts; This creates a new grief, becauſe he ſtays no longer with us, and we cannot call him back, as oft as we pleaſe, to give us thoſe delicious taſtes of his infinite Love.
But (6.) there is nothing ſo conſiderable in this matter, as that we cannot enjoy thoſe gracious viſits from our Lord (of which we are ſo deſirous, and which fill the heart with the greateſt love to him and delight in him (but they conclude in ſighs and groans, and leave us much unſatisfied, while we are in this mortal body. That very love which God himſelf excites, thoſe Heavenly impreſſions which his own hand makes upon our hearts, the greateſt ardors of divine affection wherewith we are inſpired from above; are not without their pangs of trouble in all thoſe, who with earneſt intention of mind and moſt hearty deſires, give up themſelves to follow them, and ſeriouſly endeavour to comply with them.
For while a devout ſoul (that is in a lively manner touched by him) ſtretches its wings, as I may ſay, and ſpreads it ſelf with great affection that it may mount up in vehement love unto him; It preſently feels how unable it is to anſwer thoſe divine motions, and ſees, to its ſorrow, that its wings are not grown large enough, to bear it ſo high, as it then aſpires. There is a powerful ſpirit indeed, which ſtimulates it to fly aloft, where he is; but while it endeavours to obey its inſpirations, it is ſtrongly dragged and pulled down by the earthly tabernacle, to theſe inferiour enjoyments. It is born away with violent and ſwift deſires; and at the ſame time ſinks below, and ſadly flaggs for want of power.
Like the Bird that is not yet fully fledg'd, which would fain fly when it hears the Mother call; but finding its wings too weak, is forced to fall into ſome hedge or tree, and there is content to hop up and down, and pleaſe it ſelf in its little chirpings among the branches: ſo doth the devout ſoul feel it ſelf when it is very deſirous to correſpond with the heavenly motions that are ſtirring in it; and when it thinks it hears the Father of Spirits, ſaying, Come up hither. It fails in the attempt; and can only make ſome ſmall, but feeble, eſſays towards its celeſtial country. It is ſoon tired and grows weary; and while it pants and breaths after high and excellent things, cannot reach them or come nigh them: but faints away and ſpends it ſelf in ſighs, which are ſo much the ſadder; becauſe it ſees the ſpatious Heavens before its eyes, and yet muſt be content to drop down and ſit ſtill upon the Earth.
Yea, the very ſtretching of her wings puts the ſoul to pain, when ſhe cannot fly. The ſtraining of her ſelf is very uneaſie; when ſhe can only groan, but not raiſe up her ſelf to the pitch that ſhe deſires. She ſuffers a kind of torment between theſe two; the ſtrength of her affections, and the weakneſs of her ability; the ſharpneſs of her ſight, and the dulneſs of her enjoyment.
O miſerable Creature that I am, what ſhall I do? (is the dejected ſoul in this caſe apt to ſay.) Pardon me, Dear Lord, if my great love to thee make me call my ſelf miſerable; when I know that I am very happy. It is my deſire to be nearer to thee, which makes me deplore, not only my diſtance from thee but, the feebleneſs of my ſoul in its endeavours to approach thee.
O what a change have a few moments made in me! I thought juſt now I was going up to Heaven; and alas! here I lye at this preſent ſighing upon the ground. The Divine breath, methought, was carrying me above; and I, unable to accompany it, am ſtill here below. I felt as if I was all life and ſpirit a little while ago; and now I am almoſt dead. I ſeemed as if I ſhould have quite forgot this world; and now I can ſcarce think of any thing elſe.
O how ſweet would it be, but to remember the taſts that I had of thy tranſcendent love! whereas now, alas! I can ſcarce reliſh any thing that is good. What ſhall I do with my ſelf? Or what ſhall I deſire for this poor ſoul, which is thus ſadly burdened, and preſſed down by the corruptible body?
My heart is with Jeſus; but, O how little do I enjoy of him? I am not my ſelf, I am become another thing than I was before; and yet how little is there of Jeſus in me? How wide is the diſtance ſtill, between me and my deareſt Lord? How do I long to be exactly like him, but how ſhort, O how vaſtly ſhort am I of him? And how like a ſtranger doth he ſometime ſeem? How do I loſe, in this blind and dark eſtate, the ſight and ſenſe of his moſt pretious love? I know my heart loves him; but what a grief is it, that my love is ſo weak, ſo dull, ſo little worthy of him?
O bleſſed Jeſus, what a favour is it, that thou wilt be pleaſed to caſt, at any time, a gracious look, upon ſuch a cold and ſenſleſs heart, as this of mine? With what thanks ought I to receive, the ſmalleſt teſtimony of thine ineſtimable love? Which is ſo ſweet, that it makes us ſigh becauſe we can enjoy no more of it. Ah! that this veſſel ſhould be ſo narrow and ſtrait, as to contain ſo little of thy love! Ah the dulneſs of this heart, which entertains thee ſo poorly; that it is no wonder thou makeſt ſo ſhort a ſtay, ſo exceeding ſhort a ſtay with me! How ſad is it to think of this heavy clog, which will never let me follow thee far; when I have the ſtrongeſt attractions from thee?
Fain would my ſoul climb up unto thee; but when I have got a little way, down I come, and have loſt that glorious ſight I had of thee. And if thou art pleaſed to lift me up as high as Heaven; how ſoon is the mind weighed down again, while it muſeth upon thoſe celeſtial things? O the conſtant joyes which I hoped to have! how are they vaniſhed? O the ſatisfaction which began to be in this heart; which now lyes groveling in the duſt, filled with nothing but ſighings after thee!
And bleſſed be thy Goodneſs, that it doth ſigh after thee. I thank thee that I feel ſuch love, ſuch vehement deſire there, as makes it long for more of thee. I will never ceaſe to ſigh after thee. I will ſtill long for that time, when thou, Lord, wilt be pleaſed to appear, and make all ſighing fly away, by a conſtant ſight and enjoyment of thee. For this I will groan, that I may be ſo happy as to ſee thee; and that thou wilt make me as ſtrong, as ſometime thou makeſt me deſirous, to accompany thee. I will pray for this, that thou wouldeſt come, and heal thoſe wounds which love hath made; by making me perfect in thy love.
O come therefore, Deareſt Lord, and turn my deſires into enjoyment, my ſickneſs into health, my weakneſs into ſtrength, theſe flutterings of my ſoul into a flight: into a flight, I ſay, from this earth into the air; where I may no ſooner wiſh to be with thee, but I may feel my ſoul ſnatcht away, and leap for joy to find it ſelf in thy embraces.
Come, O my Lord, come thou lover of Souls, and let me not languiſh in theſe longings any more. Come, and leave no place for any fears, that I ſhall loſe thy company. Come, and give me the full ſatisfaction I promiſe my ſelf, in thy ſweeteſt ſociety. I am content to ſuffer one pain, that I may thereby put an end to all. Death is no longer dreadful to me; when I think it will bring me ſomething nearer to thee. Thou maieſt rend my ſoul when thou pleaſeſt from this fleſh; that it may be torn no more, as it uſes to be, when it is pulled back by other things, and would gladly follow thee.
O joyn me perfectly, moſt perfectly to thee; that I may love thee as much, as the moſt enlarged ſpirit is capable to love thee. Happy ſhould I be, if I could do nothing elſe but love thee, and feel that thou loveſt me. O haſten the day, when my time ſhall be divided between theſe two ſweeteſt employments; of expreſſing my moſt ardent love to thee, and rejoycing in the full ſatisfaction of thy love to me.