Works of Joseph Hall, Decade 3 – Title page 20
THE THIRD DECAD.
To Mr Smith, and Mr Rob. Ring-leaders of the late Separation at Amſterdam. EP. I. Setting forth their iniury done to the Church, the iniuſtice of their cauſe, and fearfulneſſe of their offence: Cenſuring and aduiſing them.
WEe heare of your ſeparation, and mourne; yet not ſo much for you, as for your vvrong: you could not doe a greater iniury to your mother, then to fly from her. Say ſhee were poore, ragged, weake; ſay ſhe were deformed; yet ſhee is not infectious: Or if ſhee vvere, yet ſhe is yours. This were cauſe enough for you, to lament her, to pray for her, to labour for her redreſſe, not to auoid her: This vnnaturalneſſe is ſhamefull; and more hainous in you, who are reported not parties in this euill, but authors. Your flight is not ſo much, as your miſ-guidance. Plead not: this fault is paſt excuſe. If wee all ſhould follow you, this vvere the vvay, of a Church (as you plead) imperfect, to make no Church; and of a remedie, to make a diſeaſe. Still the fruit of our charitie to you, is, beſides our griefe, pitie. Your zeale of truth hath miſ-led you, and you others: A zeale, if honeſt yet blind-folded, and led by ſelfe-will. Oh that you loued Peace, but halfe ſo well as Truth: then, this breach had neuer beene: and you that are yet brethren, had beene ſtill companions. Goe out of Babylon, you ſay; The voice not of Schiſme, but of holineſſe. Know you vvhere you are? Looke about you, I beſeech you, looke behinde you; and ſee if wee hauehave not left it vponupon our backs. Shee her ſelfe feeles, and ſees that ſhee is abandoned: and complaines to all the world, that we hauehave not onelyonly forſaken, but ſpoiled her; and yet you ſay, Come out of Babylon. And except you will bee willingly blinde, you may ſee the heapes of her Altars, the aſhes of her Idols, the ruines of her monuments, the condemnation of her errours, the reuenge of her abominations. And are wee yet in Babylon? Is Babylon yet amongſt vsus? Where are the maine buildings of that accurſed Citie; thoſe high and proud Towers of their vniuerſall Hierarchie, infallible iudgement, diſpenſation vvith the Lawes of God, and ſinnes of men; diſpoſition of Kingdomes, depoſition of Princes, parting ſtakes vvith God in our conuerſion, through freedom of vvil; in our ſaluation, through the merit of our vvorks? Where are thoſe rotten heapes (rotten, not through age, but corruption) of tranſubſtantiating of bread, adoring of Images, multitude of Sacraments, power of Indulgences, neceſsitie of Confeſsions, profit of Pilgrimages, conſtrained and approued Ignorance, vnknowne deuotions? Where are thoſe deepe vaults (if not mynes) of Penances and Purgatories, and whatſoeuer hath beene deuiſed by thoſe Popelings, whether profitable or glorious, againſt the Lord, and his Chriſt? Are they not all raced, and buried in the duſt? Hath not the Maieſtie of her Gods, like as was done to Mithra, and Serapis, beene long agone offered to the publique laughter of the vulgar? What is this but to goe, yea to runne (if not to fly) out of Babylon? But (as eueryevery man is an hearty Patron of his owne actions, and it is a deſperate cauſe that hath no plea) you alledge our conſorting in Ceremonies, and ſay ſtill we tarry in the ſuburbs. Grant that theſe were as ill, as an enemy can make them, or can pretend them: You are deceiued, if you thinke the walles of Babylon ſtand vponupon Ceremonies. Subſtantiall errors are both her foundation, and frame. Theſe rituall obſeruations are not ſo much as Tile and Reede, rather like to ſome Fane vponupon the roofe; for ornament, more then vſe: Not parts of the building, but not neceſſarie appeadances. If you take them otherwiſe, you wrong the Church; if thus, and yet depart, you wrong it and your ſelfe: As if you would hauehave perſwaded righteous Lot not to ſtay is Zoar, becauſe it was ſo neere Sodome. I feare, if you had ſeene the money-changers in the Temple, how euer you would hauehave prayed, or taught there: Chriſt did it, not forſaking the place, but ſcourging the offenders: And this is the valour of Chriſtian teachers: To oppoſe abuſes, not to runne away from them: Where ſhall you not thus finde Babylon? Would you hauehave runne from Geneua, becauſe of her wafers? Or from Corinth, for her diſordered louelove-feaſts? Either runne out of the world, or your flight is in vaine. If experience of change teach you not, that you ſhall finde your Babylon eueryevery where, returne not. Compare the place you hauehave left, with that you hauehave choſen; let not feare of ſeeming to repent ouer-ſoone, make you partiall. Loe, there a common harbour of all opinions, of all hereſies; if not a mixture. Here you drew in the free and cleare aire of the Goſpel, without that odious compoſition of Iudaiſme, Arrianiſme, Anabaptiſme: There you liue in the ſtench of theſe and more. You are vnworthy of pitie, if you will approue your miſery. Say if you can, that the Church of England (if ſhee were not yours) is not an heauen to Amſterdam. How is it then, that our gnats are harder to ſwallow, then their camels? and that whiles all Chriſtendome magnifies our happineſſe, and applauds it; your handfull alone, ſo deteſts our enormities, that you deſpiſe our graces? See whether in this you make not God a loſer. The thanke of all his fauours is loſt, becauſe you want more: and in the meane time, who gaines by this ſequeſtration, but Rome and Hell? How doe they inſult in this aduantage, that our mothers owne children condemne her for vncleane, that we are dayly weakened by our diuiſions, that the rude multitude hath ſo palpable a motiue to diſtruſt vsus? Sure, you intended it not: but, if you had been their hired Agent, you could not hauehave done our enemies greater ſeruice. The God of heauen open your eyes, that you may ſee the vniuſtice of that zeale which hath tranſported you; and turne your heart to an endeuour of all Chriſtian ſatisfaction: Otherwiſe, your ſoules ſhall finde too late, that it had beene a thouſand times better to ſwallow a Ceremonie, then to rend a Church: yea, that euen wheredomes and murders ſhall abide an eaſier anſwer then ſeparation. I hauehave done, if onelyonly I hauehave aduiſed you of that fearfull threatning of the Wiſe-man: The eye that mocketh his father, and deſpiſeth the gouernment of his mother, the Rauens of the valley ſhall picke it out, and the yong Eagles eate it.
To Sir ANDREW ASTELEY. EP. II. A diſcourſe of our due preparation for death, and the meanes to ſweeten it to vsus.
SInce I ſaw you, I ſaw my father die: How boldly and merrily did hee paſſe thorow the gates of death, as if they had no terrour, but much pleaſure! Oh that I could as eaſily imitate, as not forget him! We know, wee muſt tread the ſame way; how happy, if with the ſame minde? Our life, as it giues way to death, ſo muſt make way for it: It will be, though we will not: it will not bee happy, without our will, without our preparation. It is the beſt and longeſt leſſon, to learne how to die; and of ſureſt vſe: which alone if we take not out, it were better not to hauehave liued. Oh vaine ſtudies of men, how to walke thorough Rome ſtreets al day in the ſhade, how to ſquare cirles, how to ſalue vp the celeſtiall motions, how to correct miſ-written copies, to fetch vp old words from forgetfulneſſe, and a thouſand other like points of idle skill; whiles the maine care of life and death is neglected! There is an Art of this, infallible; eternall both in truth, and vſe: for though the meanes bee diuers, yet the laſt act is ſtill the ſame, and the diſpoſition of the ſoule need not be other: it is all one whether a feuer bring it, or a ſword; wherein yet, after long profeſſion of other ſciences, I am ſtill (why ſhould I ſhame to confeſſe?) a learner; and ſhall be (I hope) whileſt I am: yet it ſhall not repent vsus, as diligēt ſchollers repeat their parts vntounto each other, to be more perfect; ſo mutually to recall ſome of our rules of well-dying: The firſt whereof is a conſcionable life: The next, a right apprehenſion of life, and death; I tread in the beaten path: doe you follow me. To liue holily, is the way to die ſafely, happily. If death be terrible, yet innocence is bold, and will neither feare it ſelfe, nor let vsus feare, where contrariwiſe wickedneſſe is cowardly, and cannot abide either any glimpſe of light, or ſhew of danger. Hope doth not more draw our eyes forward, then conſcience turnes them backward, and forces vsus to looke behinde vsus; affrighting vsus euen without paſt euils. Beſides the paine of death, eueryevery ſinne is a new Fury to torment the ſoule, and to make it loth to part. How can it chuſe, when it ſees on the one ſide, what euill it hath done; on the other, vvhat euill it muſt ſuffer? it vvas a cleare heart (what elſe could doe it?) that gaue ſo bold a forehead to that holy Biſhop, who durſt on his death-bed profeſſe, I hauehave ſo liued, as I neither feare to die, nor ſhame to liue. What care we when be found, if well-doing? What care we how ſuddenly, vvhen our preparation is perpetuall? What care we how violently, vvhen ſo many inward friends (ſuch are our good actions) giuegive vsus ſecret comfort? There is no good Steward, but is glad of his Audit; his ſtraight accounts deſire nothing more then a diſcharge: onelyonly the doubtfull and vntruſtie feares of his reckoning. Neither onelyonly doth the vvant of integritie make vsus timorous, but of wiſedome, in that our ignorance cannot equally value, either the life which vve leaue, or the death vve expect. Wee hauehave long conuerſed vvith this life, and yet are vnacquainted: how ſhould wee then know that death we neuer ſaw? or that life vvhichwhich followes that death?
Theſe cottages hauehave been ruinous, and wee hauehave not thought of their fall: our way hath beene deepe, and we hauehave not looked for our reſt. Shew mee euer any man that knew vvhat life vvas, and vvas loth to leaue it. I vvill ſhew you a priſoner that would dwell in his Goale, a ſlaue that likes to be chained to his Galley. What is there here, but darkneſſe of ignorance, diſcomfort of euents, impotency of bodie, vexation of conſcience, diſtemper of paſsions, complaint of eſtate, feares and ſenſe of euill, hopes and doubts of good, ambitious rackirgs, couetous toyles, enuious vnderminings, irkeſome diſappointments, weary ſacieties, reſtleſſe deſires, and many worlds of diſcontentments in this one? What wonder is it that we would liue? We laugh at their choice that are in louelove with the deformed; and what a face is this we dote vponupon? See if ſinnes, and cares, and croſſes hauehave not (like a filthy Morphew) ouer-ſpread it, and made it loathſome to all iudicious eyes. I maruell then, that any wiſe men could be other but Stoicks, and could hauehave any conceit of life, but contemptuous; not more for the miſery of it, while it laſteth, then for the not laſting: we may louelove it, wee cannot hold it. What a ſhadow of a ſmoake, what a dreame of a ſhadow is this, wee affect? Wiſe Salomon ſayes, there is a time to be borne, and a time to dye: you doe not heare him ſay, a time to liue. What is more flitting then time? Yet life is not long enough to be worthy of the title of time. Death borders vponupon our birth, and our cradle ſtands in our graue. We lament the loſſe of our parents: how ſoone ſhall our ſonnes bewaile ours? Loe, I that write this, and you that reade it; how long are we here? It were well, if the world were as our tent, yea as our Inne; if not to lodge, yet to bait in: but now it is onelyonly our thorow-fare, one generation paſſeth, another commeth; none ſtayeth. If this earth were a Paradiſe, and this which we call our life were ſweet as the ioyes aboue, yet how ſhould this fickleneſſe of it coole our delight? Grant it abſolute; who can eſteeme a vaniſhing pleaſure? How much more now, when the drammes of our honey are loſt in pounds of gall; when our contentments are as farre from ſincerity as continuance? Yet the true apprehenſion of life (though ioyned with contempt) is not enough to ſettle vsus, if either we be ignorant of death, or ill perſwaded: for if life hauehave not worth enough to allure vsus, yet death hath horror enough to affright vsus. Hee that would die cheerefully, muſt know death his friend: what is hee but the faithfull officer of our Maker, who euer ſmiles or frownes with his Maſter; neither can either ſhew or nouriſh enmitie, where God fauours: when he comes fiercely, and puls a man by the throat, and ſummons him to Hell, who can but tremble? The meſſenger is terrible; but the meſſage worſe: hence hauehave riſen the miſerable deſpaires, and furious rauing of the ill conſcience, that findes no peace within, leſſe without. But when he comes ſweetly, not as an executioner, but as a guide to glory, and profers his ſeruice, and ſhewes our happineſſe, and opens the doore to our heauen; how worthy is he of entertainment? how worthy of gratulation? But his ſalutation is painfull, if courteous, what then? The Phyſician heales vsus, not without paine; and yet wee reward him. It is vnthankfulneſſe to complaine, vvhere the anſwer of profit is exceſſiue. Death paineth: how long? how much? with what proportion to the ſequell of ioy? O death, if thy pangs be grieuous, yet thy reſt is ſweet. The conſtant expectation that hath poſſeſſed that reſt, hath already ſwallowed thoſe pangs, and makes the Chriſtian at once wholly dead to his paine, wholly aliue to his glory. The ſoule hath not leyſure to care for her ſuffering, that beholds her crowne; which if ſhee were conioyned to fetch thorow the flames of hell, her faith would not ſticke at the condition. Thus in briefe, he that liues Chriſtianly, ſhall dye boldly; he that findes his life ſhort and miſerable, ſhall dye willingly; hee that knowes death, and fore-ſees glory, ſhall die cheerefully and deſirouſly.
To M. Samuel Burton, Arch-deacon of Gloceſter. EP. III. A diſcourſe of the tryall and choice of the true Religion.
Sir: This Diſcourſe inioyned by you, I ſend to your cenſure, to your diſpoſing; but to the vſe of others. VponUpon your charge I hauehave written it for the wauering. If it ſeeme worthy, communicate it; elſe it is but a daſh of your pen. I feare onelyonly the breuitie: a Volume were too little for this Subiect. It is not more yours, then the Author. Farewell.
WE doe not more affect varietie in all other things, then wee abhorre it in Religion. Euen thoſe which hauehave held the greateſt falſhoods, hold that there is but one truth. I neuer read of more then one Hereticke, that held all Hereſies true; neither did his opinion ſeeme more incredible, then the relation of it. God can neither be multiplyed, nor Chriſt diuided: if his coat might bee parted, his bodie was intire. For that then all ſides chalenge Truth, and but one can poſſeſſe it; let vsus ſee who hauehave found it, who enioy it.
There are not many Religions that ſtriue for it, tho many opinions. EueryEvery Hereſie, albe fundamentall, makes not a Religion. We ſay not, The Religion of Arrians, Neſtorians, Sabellians, Macedonians, but the ſect or hereſie. No opinion challenges this name in our vſuall ſpeech, (for I diſcuſſe not the proprietie) but that which, ariſing from many differences, hath ſetled it ſelfe in the world, vponupon her owne principles, not without an vniuerſall diuiſion. Such may ſoone be counted: Tho it is true, there are by ſo much too many, as there are more then one. Fiue religions then there are by this rule, vponupon earth; which ſtand in competition for truth, Iewiſh, Turkiſh, Greekiſh, Popiſh, Reformed; whereof each pleads for it ſelfe, with diſgrace of the other. The plaine Reader doubts, how he may fit Iudge, in ſo high a plea: God hath put this perſon vponupon him; while he chargeth him to try the ſpirits; to retaine the good, reiect the euill: If ſtill he plead with Moſes, inſufficiencie; let him but attend, God ſhall decide the caſe in his ſilence, without difficultie. The Iew hath little to ſay for himſelfe, but impudent denials of our Chriſt, of their Prophecies: whoſe very refuſall of him, more ſtrongly proues him the true Meſsias; neither could he be iuſtified to be that Sauiour, if they reiected him not; ſince the Prophets fore-ſaw and fore-told, not their repelling of him onelyonly, but their reuiling. If there were no more arguments, God hath ſo mightily confuted them from heauen, by the voice of his iudgement, that al the vvorld hiſſeth at their conuiction. Loe, their very ſinne is capitally written in their deſolation, and contempt. One of their owne late Doctors ſeriouſly expoſtulates in a relenting Letter to another of his fellow Rabbins, what might be the cauſe of ſo long and deſperate a ruine of their Iſrael; and comparing their former captiuities with their former ſinnes, argues (and yet feares to conclude) that this continuing puniſhment, muſt needs be ſent for ſome ſinne ſo much greater then Idolatry, Oppreſſion, Sabbath-breaking; by how much this plague is more grieuous then all the other: Which, his feare tels him (and he may beleeue it) can be no other, but the murder, and refuſall of their true Meſſias. Let now all the Doctors of thoſe obſtinate Synagogues, anſwer this doubt of their owne obiecting: But how, paſt all contradiction, is the ancient witneſſe of all the holy Prophets, anſwered and confirmed by their euents? whoſe foreſayings verified in all particular iſſues, are more then demonſtratiue. No Art can deſcribe a thing paſt, vvith more exactneſſe, then they did this Chriſt to come. What circumſtance is there, that hath not his per…ction? HaueHave they not fore-vvritte… who ſho… be his mother, A Virgin: Of what Tribe, of Iuda; Of vvhat houſe, of Dauid; What place, Bethleem: vvhat time, vvhen the ſcepter ſhould be taken from Iuda: Or after ſixtie nine vveekes: What name, Ieſus, Immanuel: What habitation, Nazareth: What harbinger, Iohn, the ſecond Elias: What his buſineſſe; to preach, ſaue, deliuer: What entertainment, reiection: What death, the Croſſe: What manner, piercing the body, not breaking the bones: What company, amidſt two vvicked ones: Where, at Ieruſalem: Whereabouts, vvithout the Gates: With vvhat vvords, of imploration: What draught, of Vineger and Gall: vvho vvas his Traitor, and vvith vvhat ſucceſſe? If all the Synagogues of the Circumciſion, all the gates of Hell, can obſcure theſe euidences, let me be a proſelyte. My labour herein is ſo much leſſe, as there is leſſe danger of Iudaiſme. Our Church is vvell rid of that accurſed Nation, vvhom yet Rome harbors, and, in a faſhion, graces; vvhiles in ſtead of ſpitting at, or that their Neapolitan correction vvhereof Gratian ſpeaks, the Pope ſolemnly receiues at their hands, that Bible, vvhichwhich they at once approue, and ouerthrow. But vvould God there vvere no more Iewes then appeare. Euen in this ſenſe alſo hee is a Iew, that is one vvithin: plainely, vvhoſe heart doth not ſincerely confeſſe his Redeemer. Tho a Chriſtian Iew, is no other then an Atheiſt; and therfore muſt be ſcourged elſe-where. The Iew thus anſwered: The Turke ſtands out for his Mahomet, that cozening Arabian, vvhoſe Religion (if it deſerue that name) ſtands vponupon nothing but rude ignorance, and palpable Impoſture. Yet loe here a ſubtill Diuell, in a groſſe religion: For when he ſaw that he could not by ſingle twiſts of Hereſie pull downe the well built walls of the Church; hee vvindes them all vp in one Cable, to ſee if his cord of ſo many folds might happily preuaile: raiſing vp vvicked Mahomet, to deny vvith Sabellius the diſtinction of perſons, with Arrius Chriſts diuinity, with Macedonius the Deity of the Holy Ghoſt, with Sergius two wils in Chriſt, with Marcion Chriſts ſuffering: And theſe policies ſeconded vvith violence, how hauehave they vvaſted Chriſtendome? O damnable mixture, miſerably ſucceſſefull! vvhichwhich yet could not hauehave beene, but that it meets with ſottiſh Clients, and ſooths vp nature, and debars both all knowledge, and contraction. What is their Alcoran but a fardle of fooliſh impoſsibilities? Whoſoeuer ſhall heare me relate the ſtories of Angell Adriels death, Seraphuels trumpet, Gabriels bridge, Horroth and Marroths hanging, the Moones deſcending into Mahomets ſleeue, the Litter, wherin he ſaw God caried by eight Angels, their ridiculous and ſwiniſh Paradiſe, and thouſands of the ſame bran; would ſay, that Mahomet hoped to meet either vvith beaſts, or mad-men. Beſides theſe barbarous fictions, behold their lawes, full of licence, full of impietie: in which, reuenge is incouraged, multitude of vviues allowed, theft tolerated; and the frame of their opinions ſuch, as vvell bewrayes their whole religion to be but the mungrell iſſue of an Arrian, Iew, Neſtorian, and Arabian: A monſter of many ſeeds, and all accurſed; In both vvhichwhich regards, Nature her ſelfe, in vvhoſe breaſt God hath written his royall Law (tho in part, by her defaced) hath light enough to condemne a Turke, as the worſt Pagan. Let no man looke for further diſproofe. Theſe follies, a wiſe Chriſtian will ſcorne to confute, and fearce vouchſafe to laugh at.
The Greekiſh Church (ſo the Ruſſes tearme themſelues) put in the next claime, but with no better ſucceſſe; whoſe infinite Clergy affords not a man that can giuegive either reaſon or account of their owne doctrine. Theſe are the baſeſt dregs of all Chriſtians, ſo we fauourably terme them; tho they, perhaps in more ſimplicitie then wilfulneſſe, would admit none of all the other Chriſtian world to their font, but thoſe, who in a ſolemne renunciation ſpit at, and abiure their former God, Religion, Baptiſme: yet peraduenture wee might more iuſtly terme them Nicolaitans, for that obſcure Saint (if a Saint, if honeſt) by an vnequall diuiſion, findes more homage from them then his maſter. Theſe are as ignorant as Turkes, as idolatrous as Heathens, as obſtinate as Iewes, and more ſuperſtitious then Papiſts. To ſpeake ingenuouſly from that I hauehave heard and read; if the worſt of the Romiſh religion, and the beſt of the Moſcouitiſh bee compared, the choice will be hard whether ſhould be leſſe ill. I labour the leſſe in all theſe, whoſe remoteneſſe and abſurditie ſecure vsus from infection, and whoſe onelyonly name is their confutation. I deſcend to that maine riuall of Truth, which creepes into her boſome, and is not leſſe neere then ſubtle, the religion (if not rather the faction) of Papiſme; whoſe plea is importunate, and ſo much more dangerous, as it caries fairer probability. Since then of all religions the Chriſtian obtaineth, let vsus ſee of thoſe that are called Chriſtian, which ſhould command aſſent and profeſſion. EueryEvery religion beares in her lineaments the image of her parent: the true Religion therefore is ſpirituall, and lookes like God in her puritie: all falſe religions are carnall, and carie the face of Nature, their mother, and of him whoſe illuſion begot them, Satan. In ſumme, Nature neuer conceiued any which did not fauour her, nor the ſpirit any which did not oppugne her. Let this then be the Lydian ſtone of this tryall; we need no more. Whether Religion ſoeuer doth more plauſibly content Nature, is falſe; whether giues more ſincere glory to God, is his Truth. Lay aſide preiudice: Whither I beſeech you tendeth all Popery, but to make Nature either vainly proud, or careleſſely wanton? What can more aduance her pride, then to tell her, that ſhe hath in her own hands freedome enough of will (with a little preuention) to prepare her ſelfe to her iuſtification; that ſhe hath (whereof to reioyce) ſome what, which ſhee hath not receiued; that if God pleaſe but to vnfetter her, ſhe can walke alone? She is inſolent enough of her ſelfe; this flatterie is enough to make her mad of conceit. After this; That if God will but beare halfe the charges by his cooperation, ſhe may vndertake to merit her owne glory, and braue God in the proofe of his moſt accurate iudgement; to fulfill the whole royall law; and that from the ſuperfluitie of her owne ſatisfactions, ſhee may bee abundantly beneficiall to her neighbours; that naturally without faith a man may doe ſome good workes; that we may repoſe confidence in our merits. Neither is our good onelyonly by this flatterie extolled, but our ill alſo diminiſhed; our euils are our ſinnes; ſome of them (they ſay) are in their nature veniall, and not worthy of death; more, that our originall ſinne is but the want of our firſt iuſtice; no guilt of our firſt fathers offence; no inherent ill diſpoſition; and that by Baptiſmall water is taken away what euer hath the nature of ſinne; that a meere man (let mee not wrong Saint Peters ſucceſſor, in ſo tearming him) hath power to remit both puniſhment and ſinne, paſt and future; that many hauehave ſuffered more then their ſinnes hauehave required; that the ſufferings of the Saints added to Chriſts paſſions, make vp the treaſure of the Church, that ſpirituall Exchequer; whereof their Biſhop muſt keepe the key, and make his friends. In all theſe the gaine of Nature (who ſees not?) is Gods loſſe: all her brauery is ſtolne from aboue: beſides thoſe other direct derogations from him; that his Scriptures are not ſufficient; that their originall fountaines are corrupted, and the ſtreames runne clearer; that there is a multitude (if a finite number) of Mediators. Turne your eyes now to vsus, and ſee contrarily how we abaſe Nature, how wee knead her in the duſt; ſpoiling her of her proud rags, loading her with reproaches; and giuing glory to him, that ſayes, he will not giuegive it to another; whiles we teach, that we neither hauehave good, nor can doe good of our ſelues; that we are not ſicke or fettered, but dead in our ſinne; that we cannot moue to good, more then we are moued; that our beſt actions are faulty; our ſatisfactions debts; our deſerts damnation; that all our merit is his mercy that ſaues vsus; that eueryevery of our ſinnes is deadly; eueryevery of our natures originally depraued, and corrupted; that no water can entirely waſh away the filthineſſe of our concupiſcence; that none but the blood of him that was God, can cleanſe vsus; that all our poſſible ſufferings are below our offences; that Gods written Word is all-ſufficient to informe vsus, to make vsus both wiſe and perfect; that Chriſts mediation is more then ſufficient to ſaue vsus, his ſufferings to redeeme vsus, his obedience to inrich vsus. You hauehave ſeene how Papiſtry makes Nature proud; now ſee how it makes her lawleſſe and wanton: while it teacheth (yet this one, not ſo vniuerſally) that Chriſt dyed effectually for all; that in true contrition an expreſſe purpoſe of new life is not neceſſarie; that wicked men are true members of the Church; that a lewd miſ-creant or infidell in the buſineſſe of the Altar partakes of the true body and blood of Chriſt, yea (which a ſhame to tell) a brute creature; that men may ſaue the labour of ſearching, for that it is both eaſie and ſafe (with that Catholike Collier) to beleeue with the Church, at a venture: more then ſo, that deuotion is the ſeed of ignorance; that there is infallabilitie annexed to a particular place and perſon; that the bare act of the Sacraments confers grace without faith; that the meere ſigne of the Croſſe made by a Iew or Infidell, is of force to driue away Diuels; that the ſacrifice of the Maſſe in the very worke wrought, auailes to obtaine pardon of our ſinnes, not in our life onelyonly, but when we lye frying in purgatory; that we need not pray in faith to be heard, or in vnderſtanding; that almes giuen, merit heauen, diſpoſe to iuſtification, ſatisfie God for ſinne; that abſtinence from ſome meats and drinkes is meritorious; that Indulgences may be granted to diſpenſe vvith all the penance of ſinnes afterward to bee committed; that theſe by a liuing man may be applyed to the dead; that one man may deliuer anothers ſoule out of his purging torments: and therefore, that hee who vvants not either money or friends; need not feare the ſmart of his ſinnes. O religion, ſweet to the wealthy, to the needy deſperate! who will now care henceforth how ſound his deuotions be, how lewd his life, how hainous his ſinnes, that knowes theſe refuges? On the contrary, we curbe Nature, we reſtraine, we diſcourage, we threaten her, teaching her not to reſt in implicit faiths, or generall intenſions, or external actions of piety, or preſumptuous diſpenſations of men: but to ſtriue vntounto ſincere faith, without which we hauehave no part in Chriſt, in his Church, no benefit by Sacraments, prayers, faſtings, beneficences: to ſet the heart on worke in all our deuotions, without which the hand and tongue are but hypocrites: to ſet the hands on worke in good actions, without which the preſuming heart is but an hypocrite: to expect no pardon for ſinne before we commit it, and from Chriſt alone when wee hauehave committed it, and to repent before we expect it: to hope for no chaffering, no ranſome of our ſoules from below, no contrary change of eſtate after diſſolution: that life is the time of mercy, death of retribution. Now let me appeale to your ſoule, and to the iudgement of all the vvorld, whether of theſe two religions is framed to the humour of Nature: yea let mee but know vvhat action Popery requires of any of her followers, which a meere Naturaliſt hath not done, cannot doe? See how I hauehave choſen to beat them with that rod wherewith they thinke we hauehave ſo often ſmarted: for what cauill hath beene more ordinary againſt vsus, then this of eaſe and liberty, yea licence giuen and taken by our religion? together with the vpbraidings of their owne ſtrict and rigorous auſtereneſſe? Where are our penall workes, our faſtings, ſcourges, haire-cloth, weary pilgrimages, bluſhing confeſſions, ſolemne vowes of willing beggery and perpetuall continencie? To doe them right, we yeeld; in all the hard workes of will-worſhip they goe beyond vsus; but (leſt they ſhould inſult in the victory) not ſo much as the Prieſts of Baal went beyond them. I ſee their whips: ſhew me their kniues. Where did euer zealous Romaniſt lance and carue his fleſh in deuotion? The Baalites did it, and yet neuer the wiſer, neuer the holier. Either therefore this zeale, in workes of their owne deuiſing, makes them not better then we, or it makes the Baalites better then they: let them take their choiſe. Alas, theſe difficulties are but a colour to auoid greater: No, no, to worke out ſtubborne wils to ſubiection, to draw this vntoward fleſh to a ſincere cheerefulneſſe in Gods ſeruice: to reach vntounto a ſound beliefe in the Lord Ieſus, to pray with a true heart, without diſtraction, without diſtruſt, without miſ-conceit: to keepe the heart in continuall awe of God: Theſe are the hard tasks of a Chriſtian, worthy of our ſweat, worthy of our reioycing: all which that Babyloniſh religion ſhifteth off with a careleſſe faſhionableneſſe, as if it had not to doe with the ſoule. GiueGive vsus obedience: let them take ſacrifice. Doe you yet looke for more euidence? looke into particulars, and ſatisfie your ſelfe in Gods deciſion, as Optatus aduiſed of old. Since the goods of our father are in queſtion, whither ſhould we goe but to his Will and Teſtament? My ſoule beare the danger of this bold aſſertion. If we erre, wee erre with Chriſt and his Apoſtles. In a word, againſt all ſtaggering, our Sauiours rule is ſure and eternall: If any man will doe my Fathers will, he ſhall know of the doctrine whether it be of God.
TO M. EDMVND SLEIGH. EP. IV. A diſcourſe of the hardneſſe of Chriſtianity, and the abundant recompence of the pleaſures and commodities of that profeſsion.
HOw hard a thing it is (deare Vncle) to be a Chriſtian! perhaps others are leſſe dull, and more quiet; more waxen to the impreſſions of grace, and leſſe troubleſome to themſelues; I accuſe none, but whom I dare, my ſelfe. Euen eaſie buſineſſes are hard to the weake: let others boaſt, I muſt complaine. To keepe our ſtation is hard; harder to moue forward. One while I ſcarce reſtraine my vnruly deſires, from euill; ofter, can find no luſt to good. My heart will either be vaine, or ſullen: when I am wrought with much ſweat to deteſt ſinne, and diſtaſte the world, yet who ſhall raiſe vp this droſſe to a ſpirituallioy? Sometimes I purpoſe vvell; and if thoſe thoughts (not mine) begin to lift me from my earth; loe, he that rules in the aire, ſtoopes vponupon me with powerfull tentations, or the vvorld puls me downe with a ſweet violence; ſo as I know not vvhether I be forced, or perſwaded to yeeld; I finde much weakeneſſe in my ſelfe, but more treachery. How vvilling am I to be deceiued! How loth to bee altered! Good duties ſeeme harſh, and can hardly eſcape the repulſe, or delay of excuſes; and not without much ſtrife grow to any relliſh of pleaſure; and vvhen they are at beſt, cannot auoid the mixture of many infirmities: which doe at once diſquiet, and diſcourage the mind, not ſuffering it to reſt in vvhat it vvould hauehave done, and could not. And if after many fighes and teares, I hauehave attained to doe well, and reſolue better; yet this good eſtate is farre from conſtant, and eaſily inclining to change. And whiles I ſtriue, in ſpight of my naturall fickleneſſe, to hold my owne vvith ſome progreſſe, and gaine; vvhat difficultie doe I finde, vvhat oppoſition? O God, what aduerſaries haſt thou prouided for vsus vveake men! what incounters! Malicious and ſubtill ſpirits, an alluring vvorld, a ſerpentine and ſtubborne nature: Force and fraud doe their vvorſt to vsus; ſometimes becauſe they are ſpirituall enemies, I ſee them not, and complaine to feele them too late: Other-whiles my ſpirituall eyes ſee them with amazement, and I (like a cowardly Iſraelite) am ready to flee, and plead their meaſure, for my feare: Who is able to ſtand before the ſonnes of Anak? Some other times I ſtand ſtill, and (as I can) weakely reſiſt; but am foiled with indignation, and ſhame. Then againe I riſe vp, not without baſhfulneſſe and ſcorne: and vvith more hearty reſiſtance preuaile, and triumph, when ere long, ſurprized with a ſudden and vnwarned aſſault, I am caried away captiue, whither I vvould not: and mourning for my diſcomfiture, ſtudy for a feeble reuenge: My quarrell is good, but my ſtrength maintaines it not; It is now long ere I can recouer this ouerthrow, and finde my ſelfe whole of theſe wounds. Beſides ſuggeſtions, croſſes fall heauy, and worke no ſmall diſtemper in a minde faint and vnſetled, vvhoſe law is ſuch, that the more I grow, the more I beare; and not ſeldome, when God giues me reſpite, I afflict my ſelfe: either my feare faineth euils, or my vnruly paſſions raiſe tumults vvithin me, vvhichwhich breed much trouble; whether in ſatisfying or ſuppreſſing: not to ſpeake, that ſinne is attended, beſides vnquietneſſe, vvith terror.
Now you ſay; Alas! Chriſtianitie is hard: I grant it; liue gainfull and happy. I contemne the difficultie, when I reſpect the aduantage. The greateſt labours that hauehave anſwerable requitals, are leſſe then the leaſt that hauehave no regard. Beleeue me, when I looke to the reward, I would not hauehave the worke eaſier. It is a good Maſter whom we ſerue, who not onelyonly payes, but giues; not after the proportion of our earnings, but of his owne mercy. If eueryevery paine that wee ſuffer were a death, and eueryevery croſſe an hell, we hauehave amends enough. It were iniurious to complaine of the meaſure, when we acknowledge the recompence. Away with theſe weake diſlikes: tho I ſhould buy it dearer, I would be a Chriſtian. Any thing may make me out of louelove with my ſelfe, nothing with my profeſſion: I were vnworthy of this fauour if I could repent to hauehave endured: herein alone I am ſafe, herein I am bleſſed. I may be all other things, and yet with that dying Emperor complaine, with my laſt breath, That I am no whit the better: let me be a Chriſtian, I am priuiledged from miſeries; hell cannot touch me, death cannot hurt me. No euill can arreſt me while I am vnderunder the protection of him, which ouer-rules all-good and euill: yea ſo ſoone as it touches mee, it turnes good; and being ſent and ſuborned-by my ſpirituall aduerſaries to betray mee, now in an happy change it fights for me, and is driuen rather to rebell, then wrong mee. It is a bold and ſtrange word: No price could buy of me the gaine of my ſinnes: That, which while I repented, I would hauehave expiated with blood; now after my repentance I forgoe not for a world; the fruit of hauing ſinned (if not rather, of hauing repented.) Beſides my freedome, how large is my poſſeſſion? All good things are mine, to challenge, to enioy. I cannot looke beyond my owne, nor beſides it; and the things that I cannot ſee, I dare claime no leſſe. The heauen that rowles ſo gloriouſly aboue my head is mine, by this right: yea, thoſe celeſtiall ſpirits, the better part of that high creation, watch me in my bed, guard me in my wayes, ſhelter me in my dangers, comfort me in my troubles, and are ready to receiue that ſoule which they hauehave kept.
What ſpeake I of creatures? The God of ſpirits is mine: and by a ſweet and ſecret vnion I am become an heire of his glory, yea (as it were) a limme of himſelfe. O bleſſedneſſe! worthy of difficulty; vvorthy of paine. What thou vvilt, Lord, ſo I may be thine, what thou wilt. When I hauehave done all, when I hauehave ſuffered all, thou exceedeſt more then I want. Follow me then, deare Vncle: or if you will) leade me rather (as you hauehave done) in theſe ſteps; and from the rough way, looke to the end: Ouer-looke theſe trifling grieuances, and faſten your eyes vponupon the happy recompence; and ſee if you cannot ſcorne to complaine. Pitie thoſe that take not your paines; and perſiſt with courage till you feele the weight of your Crowne.
To Mr W. L. EP. V. Expoſtulating the cauſe of his vnſetledneſſe in Religion, which is pleaded to be our diſſenſions: ſhewing the inſufficiencie of that Motiue, and comparing the ſtate of our Church herein, with the Romiſh.
I Would I knew where to finde you: then I could tell how to take a direct ayme; whereas now I muſt roue, and coniecture. To day you are in the tents of the Romaniſts; to morrow in ours; the next day betweene both, againſt both. Our aduerſaries thinke you ours; we theirs, your conſcience findes you with both, and neither. I flatter you not: this of yours is the worſt of all tempers: heat and cold hauehave their vſes, luke-warmneſſe is good for nothing, but to trouble the ſtomacke. Thoſe that are ſpiritually hot, finde acceptation; thoſe that are ſtarke cold, hauehave a leſſer reckoning; the meane betweene both, is ſo much worſe, as it comes neerer to good, and attaines it not. How long wilt you halt in this indifferency? Reſolue one way, and know at laſt what you doe hold; what you ſhould. Caſt off either your wings or your teeth; and loathing this Bat-like nature, be either a bird or a beaſt. To dye wauering and vncertaine, your ſelfe will grant fearfull. If you muſt ſettle, when begin you? If you muſt beginne, why not now? It is dangerous deferring that, whoſe want is deadly, and whoſe opportunity is doubtfull. God cryeth with Iehu, Who is on my ſide, who? Looke at laſt out of your window to him, and in a reſolute courage caſt downe this Iezabel that hath bewitched you. Is there any impediment, which delay will abate? Is there any which a iuſt anſwer cannot remoue? If you had rather wauer, who can ſettle you? But if you louelove not inconſtancy, tell vsus why you ſtagger. Bee plaine, or elſe you will neuer bee firme: What hinders you? Is it our diuiſions: I ſee you ſhake your head at this, and by your ſilent geſture bewray this the cauſe of your diſtaſte: Would God I could either deny this with truth, or amend it with teares: But I grant it, with no leſſe ſorrow, then you with offence. This earth hath nothing more lamentable, then the ciuill jarres of one faith. What then? Muſt you defie your mother, becauſe you ſee your brethren fighting? Their diſſenſion is her griefe: Muſt ſhe loſe ſome ſonnes, becauſe ſome others quarrell? Doe not ſo wrong your ſelfe in afflicting her. Will you louelove Chriſt the leſſe, becauſe his coat is diuided? Yea, let mee bodly ſay; The hemme is torne a little, the garment is whole; or rather it is fretted a little, not torne; or rather the fringe, not the hem. Behold, here is one Chriſt, one Creed, one Baptiſme, one Heauen, one way to it; in ſumme, one religion, one foundation, and (take away the tumultuous ſpirits of ſome rigorous Lutherans) one heart: our differences are thoſe of Paul and Barnabas; not thoſe of Peter and Magus: if they be ſome, it is well they are no more; if many, that they are not capitall. Shew me that Church, that hath not complained of diſtraction; yea that family, yea that fraternity, yea that man that alwayes agrees with himſelfe. See if the Spouſe of Chriſt, in that heauenly mariage ſong, doe not call him, a young Hart in the mountaines of diuiſion. Tell me then, whither wil you go for truth, if you will allow no truth, but where there is no diuiſion? To Rome perhaps, famous for vnitie, famous for peace. See now how happily you hauehave choſen, how well you hauehave ſped: Loe, there Cardinall Bellarmine himſelfe, a witneſſe aboue exception, vnderunder his owne hand acknowledgeth to the world, and reckons vp 237 contrarieties of doctrine among the Romiſh Diuines. VVhat need we more euidence? O the perfect accordance of Peters See! worthy to be recorded for a badge of truth. Let now all our aduerſaries ſcrape together ſo many contradictions of opinions amongſt vsus, as they confeſſe amongſt themſelues, and be you theirs. No, they are not more peaceable, but more ſubtle; they hauehave not leſſe diſſenſion, but more ſmothered. They fight cloſely within doores, without noyſe; all our frayes are in the field: would God wee had as much of their cunning, as they want of our peace; and no more of their policy, then they want of our truth. Our ſtrife is in ceremonies, theirs ſubſtance; ours in one or two points, theirs in all. Take it boldly from him that dares auouch it, there is not one point in all Diuinity (except thoſe wherein we accord with them) wherein they all ſpeak the ſame. If our Church diſpleaſe you for differences, theirs much more; vnleſſe you will be either wilfully incredulous, or wilfully partiall: vnleſſe you diſlike a miſchiefe the leſſe for the ſecrecy, VVhat will you doe then? VVill you be a Church alone? Alas, how full are you of contradictions to your ſelfe! how full of contrary purpoſes! how oft doe you chide with your ſelfe! how oft doe you fight with your ſelfe! I appeale to that boſome which is priuy to thoſe ſecret combats: beleeue me not, if euer you find perfect vnity any where but aboue: either goe thither, and ſeeke it amongſt thoſe that triumph, or be content with what eſtate you finde in this warfaring number. Truth is in differences, as gold in droſſe, wheat in chaffe; will you caſt away the beſt mettall, the beſt graine, becauſe it is mingled with this offall? VVill you rather bee poore and hungry, then beſtow labour on the farme, or the furnace? Is there nothing worth your reſpect, but peace? I hauehave heard that the interlacing of diſcords graces the beſt muſick; and I know not whether the very euill ſpirits agree not with themſelues. If the body be ſound, what though the coat be torne? or if the garment be whole, what if the lace be vnript? Take you peace: let me hauehave truth, I cannot hauehave both. To conclude: Embrace thoſe truths that we all hold; and it greatly matters not what you hold in thoſe wherein we differ: and if you louelove your ſafety, ſeeke rather grounds whereon to reſt, then excuſes for your vnreſt. If euer you looke to gaine by the truth, you muſt both chuſe it, and cleaue to it: Meere reſolution is not enough; except you will rather loſe your ſelfe then it.
To Sir EDMVND LVCY. EPIST. VI. Diſcourſing of the different degrees of heauenly glory; and of our mutuall knowledge of each other aboue.
AS thoſe which neuer were at home, now after much heare-ſay trauelling toward it, aske in the way, What manner of houſe it is, what ſeat, what frame, what ſoile; ſo doe we in the paſſage to our glory: we are all pilgrimes thither; yet ſo; as that ſome hauehave lookt into it afarre through the open windowes of the Scripture. Goe to then: whiles others are enquiring about worldly dignities, and earthly pleaſures, let vsus two ſweetly conſult of the eſtate of our future happineſſe; yet without preſumption, without curioſitie. Amongſt this infinite choice of thoughts, it hath pleaſed you to limit our diſcourſe to two heads. You aske firſt, if the ioyes of the glorified Saints ſhall differ in degrees. I feare not to affirme it. There is one life of all, one felicity; but diuers meaſures. Our heauen beginnes here, and here varies in degrees. One Chriſtian enioyes God aboue another, according as his grace, as his faith is more: and heauen is ſtill like it ſelfe, not other aboue from that beneath. As our grace begins our glory, ſo it proportions it: Bleſſedneſſe ſtands in the perfect operation of the beſt faculties, about the perfecteſt obiect; that is, in the viſion, in the fruition of God. All his Saints ſee him, but ſome more clearly; as the ſame Sunne is ſeene of all eyes, not with equall ſtrength. Such as the eye of our faith was to ſee him that is inuiſible, ſuch is the eye of our preſent apprehenſion to ſee as we are ſeene. Who ſees not, that our rewards are according to our workes? not for them, as on merit (woe be to that ſoule which hath but what it earneth) but after them, as their rule of proportion: and theſe, how ſenſibly vnequall? One giues but a cup of cold water to a diſciple, another giues his blood for the maſter. Different workes hauehave different wages, not of deſert, but of mercy. Fiue talents well imployed, carry away more recompence then two; yet both approued, both rewarded with their Maſters ioy. Who can ſticke at this, that knowes thoſe heauenly ſpirits (to whom we ſhall be like) are marſhalled by their Maker into ſeuerall rankes? He that was rapt into their element, and ſaw their bleſſed orders, as from his owne knowledge, hath ſtiled them, Thrones, Principalities, Powers, Dominions. If in one part of this Celeſtiall Family, the great Houſholder hath thus ordered it, why not in the other? yea euen in this he hath inſtanced; You ſhall ſit on twelue Thrones, and iudge the twelue Tribes of Iſrael. If he meane not ſome preheminence to his Apoſtles, how doth he anſwer, how doth he ſatisfie them? Yet more: Lazarus is in Abrahams boſome; therefore Abraham is more honoured then Lazarus. I ſhall need no moe proofes, if from heauen you ſhall looke down into the great Gulfe, and there ſee diuerſity of torments according to the value of ſinnes. Equality of offences, you acknowledge an idle Paradoxe of the Stoicks: to hold vnequall ſinnes equally puniſhed, were more abſurd, and more iniurious to Gods iuſtice: There is but one fire, which yet otherwiſe burnes the ſtraw, otherwiſe wood and iron. He that made and commands this dungeon, theſe tortures, tells vsus that the wilfully diſobedient ſhall ſmart with moe ſtripes; the ignorant with fewer. Yet ſo conceiue of theſe heauenly degrees, that the leaſt is glorious. So do theſe veſſels differ, that all are full: there is no want in any, no enuy. Let vsus ſtriue for a place, not ſtriue for the order: how can we wiſh to be more then happy?
Your other queſtion is of our mutuall knowledge aboue; the hope whereof (you thinke) would giuegive much contentment to the neceſſity of our parture: for both wee are loth not to know thoſe whom we louelove, and wee are glad to thinke wee ſhall know them happy: whereof (if it may comfort you) I am no leſſe confident. If I may not goe ſo far, as with the beſt of the Fathers, to ſay we ſhall know one anothers thoughts, I dare ſay, our perſons we ſhall; our knowledge, our memory, are not there loſt, but perfected: yea, I feare not to ſay we ſhall know both our miſeries paſt, and the preſent ſufferings of the damned. It makes our happineſſe not a little the ſweeter, to know that we were miſerable, to know that others are and muſt bee miſerable: wee ſhall know them; not feele them. Take heed, that you clearly diſtinguiſh betwixt ſpeculation and experience. We are then farre out of the reach of euils. We may ſee them to comfort vsus, not to affect vsus. Who doubts that theſe eyes ſhall ſee, and know the glorious manhood of our bleſſed Sauiour, aduanced aboue all the powers of heauen? And if one body, why not more? And if our elder brother, why no more of our ſpirituall fraternity? Yea if the twelue thrones of thoſe Iudges of Iſrael ſhall be conſpicuous; how ſhall wee not acknowledge them? And if theſe, who ſhall reſtraine vsus from more? You will eaſily grant, that our louelove can neuer faile: Faith and hope giuegive place to ſight, to preſent fruition; for theſe are of things not ſeene: but louelove is perpetuall, not of God only, but his Saints: For nothing ceaſes, but our earthly parts, nothing but what ſauors of corruption. Chriſtian louelove is a grace, and may well chalenge a place in heauen: and what louelove is there, of what we know not? More plainly; If the three Diſciples in Tabor knew Moſes and Elias, how much more ſhall we know them in Gods Sion? Laſtly, (for it is a letter, not a volume, that I intended in this not neceſſary, but likely diſcourſe) that famous parable can tell you, that thoſe which are in hell, may know ſingular and ſeuerall perſons, though diſtant in place. The rich Glutton knowes Lazarus and Abraham. I heare what you ſay; It is but a parable: neither will I preſſe you with the contrary authority of Ambroſe, Tertullian, Gregory, Hierome, or any Father; nor with that vniuerſall rule of Chryſoſtome, that thoſe onelyonly are parables, where examples are expreſſed, and names concealed: I yeeld it; yet all holy parables hauehave their truths, at leaſt their probabilities. Deny this, and you diſable their vſe, wrong their Author. Our Sauiour neuer ſaid ought was done, that cannot be: and ſhall then the damned retaine ought, which the glorified loſe? No man euer held that the ſoule was aduantaged by torment. Comfort you therefore in this; you ſhall know and be knowne. But farre be from hence all carnall and earthly thoughts; as if your affections ſhould be (as below) doubled to your wife or child. Nature hath no place in glory: here is no reſpect of blood, none of mariage. This groſſer aquaintance and pleaſure is for the Paradiſe of Turkes, not the Heauen of Chriſtians. Here is, as no mariage, (ſaue betwixt the Lambe and his Spouſe the Church) ſo no matrimoniall affections. You ſhall reioyce in your glorified child; not as your child, but as glorified. In briefe, let vsus ſo enquire of our company, that aboue all things we ſtriue to be there our ſelues, where we are ſure, if we hauehave not what we imagined, we ſhall hauehave more then we could imagine.
To Mr T.L. EP. VII. Concerning the matter of diuorce in caſe of apparant adultery, aduiſing the innocent party of the fitteſt courſe in that behalfe.
ALL intermedling is attended with danger; and euer ſo much more, as the band of the parties contending, is nearer and ſtraiter: how can it then want perill, to iudge betwixt thoſe which are, or ſhould bee one fleſh? yet great neceſsities require hazard. My profeſsion would iuſtly checke me, if I preferred not your conſcience to my owne louelove. I pity and lament, that your owne boſome is falſe to you; that your ſelfe with ſhame, and with ſin, are pulled from your ſelfe, & giuen to whom you would not: An iniury that cannot be parallelled vponupon earth; and ſuch as may without our wonder, diſtract you: ſleight croſſes are digeſted with ſtudy, and reſolution; greater, with time; the greateſt, not without ſtudy, time, counſell. There is no extreame euill, whoſe euaſions are not perplexed. I ſee here miſchiefe on either hand: I ſee you beſet, not with griefes onelyonly, but dangers. No man euer more truly held a wolfe by the eare; which he can neither ſtay, nor let goe with ſafety. Gods ancient law would hauehave made a quicke diſpatch, and hauehave determined the caſe, by the death of the offender, and the liberty of the innocent; and not it alone. How many Heathen Law-giuers hauehave ſubſcribed to Moſes? Arabians, Grecians, Romans, yea very Gothes, the dregs of Barbariſme, hauehave thought this wrong not expiable, but by blood. With vsus, the eaſineſſe of reuenge, as it yeelds frequence of offences, ſo multitude of doubts: Whether the wronged husband ſhould conceale, or complaine: complaining, whether he ſhould retaine or diſmiſſe: diſmiſſing, whether he may marry, or muſt continue ſingle: not continuing ſingle, whether he may receiue his own, or chuſe another: but your inquiries ſhall be my bounds. The fact (you ſay) is too euident. Let me aske you; To your ſelfe, or to the world. This point alone muſt vary our proceedings. Publike notice requires publike diſcharge. Priuate wrongs are in our owne power: publike, in the hands of authority. The thoughts of our owne breſts, while they ſmother themſelues within vsus, are at our command, whether for ſuppreſſing, or expreſſing; but if they once hauehave vented themſelues by words, vntounto others eares, now (as common ſtrayes) they muſt ſtand to the hazard of cenſure: ſuch are our actions. Neither the ſword, nor the keyes meddle within doores, & what but they vvithout? If fame hauehave laid hold on the wrong, proſecute it, cleere your name, cleere your houſe, yea Gods. Elſe you ſhall be reputed a Pandar to your owne bed: and the ſecond ſhame ſhall ſurpaſſe the firſt, ſo much as your owne fault can more blemiſh you, then anothers. If there were no more; he is cruelly mercifull, that neglects his owne fame. But what if the ſinne were ſhrouded in ſecrecy? The loathſomneſſe of vice conſiſts not in common knowledge. It is no leſſe hainous, if leſſe talked of. Report giues but ſhame: God and the good ſoule deteſt cloſe euils. Yet then I ask not of the offence, but of the offender; not of her crime, but her repentance. She hath ſinned againſt heauen, and you. But hath ſhe waſhed your polluted bed with her teares? Hath her true ſorrow beene no leſſe apparant then her ſinne? Hath ſhe peeced her old vow with new proteſtations of fidelity? Do you find her at once humbled and changed? Why ſhould that eare be deafe to her prayers, that was open to her accuſation? why is there not yet place for mercy? Why doe we Chriſtians liue as vnderunder Martiall law, wherein we ſinne but once? Plead not authority: Ciuilians hauehave beene too rigorous: the mercifull ſentence of Diuinity, ſhal ſweetly temper humane ſeuereneſs. How many hauehave we known the better for their ſinne? That Magdalene (her predeceſſor in filthineſſe) had neuer loued ſo much, if ſhe had not ſo much ſinned. How oft hath Gods Spouſe deſerued a diuorce? which yet ſtill her confeſſions, her teares hauehave reuerſed. How oft hath that ſcroll beene written, and ſigned; and yet againe cancelled, and torne, vponupon ſubmiſſion? His actions, not his words onelyonly, are our precepts: Why is man cruell, where God relents? The wrong is ours onelyonly, for his ſake; without whoſe law, were no ſinne. If the Creditor pleaſe to remit the debt, doe ſtanders-by complaine? But if ſhe be at once filthy, and obſtinate, flie from her bed, as contagious. Now your beneuolence is adultery; you impart your body to her, ſhe her ſinne to you: A dangerous exchange; An honeſt body for an harlots ſinne: Herein you are in cauſe that ſhe hath more then one adulterer. I applaud the rigour of thoſe ancient Canons, which hauehave ſtill roughly cenſured euen this cloake of vice: As there is neceſſity of charity in the former, ſo of iuſtice in this. If you can ſo louelove your wife, that you deteſt not her ſin, you are a better huſband then a Chriſtian, a better bawd then an husband. I dare ſay no more vponupon ſo generall a relation; good Phyſitians in dangerous diſeaſes dare not preſcribe on bare ſight of vrine, or vncertaine report, but will feele the pulſe, and ſee the ſymptomes, ere they reſolue on the receit. You ſee how no niggard I am of my counſels: would God I could as eaſily aſſwage your griefe, as ſatisfie your doubts.
To M. ROBERT HAY. EPIST. VIII. A Diſcourſe of the continuall exerciſe of a Chriſtian, how he may keepe his heart from hardneſſe, and his wayes from error.
TO keepe the heart in vre with God, is the higheſt taske of a Chriſtian. Good motions are not frequent: but the conſtancy of good diſpoſition is rare and hard. This worke muſt be continuall, or elſe ſpeedeth not: like as the body from a ſetled and habituall diſtemper muſt be recouered by long diets; and ſo much the rather, for that we cannot intermit here without relapſes. If this field be not tilled eueryevery day, it will runne out into thiſtles. The euening is fitteſt for this worke: when retyred into our ſelues, we muſt cheerefully, and conſtantly, both looke vp to God, and into our hearts; as we hauehave to doe with both: to God in thankſgiuing firſt, then in requeſt. It ſhall be therefore expedient for the ſoule, duly to recount to it ſelfe all the ſpecialties of Gods fauours: a confuſed thankes fauours of careleſneſſe, and neither doth affect vsus, nor win acceptance aboue. Bethinke your ſelfe then of all theſe externall, inferiour, earthly graces: that your being, breathing, life, motion, reaſon, is from him; that hee hath giuen you a more noble nature, then the reſt of the creatures, excellent faculties of the mind, perfection of ſenſes, ſoundneſſe of body, competency of eſtate, ſeemlineſſe of condition, fitneſſe of calling, preſeruation from dangers, reſcue out of miſeries, kindneſſe of friends, carefulneſſe of education, honeſty of reputation, liberty of recreations, quietneſſe of life, opportunity of well-doing, protection of Angels. Then riſe higher to his ſpirituall fauours, tho here on earth, and ſtriue to raiſe your affections with your thoughts: Bleſſe God that you were borne in the light of the Goſpell, for your profeſſion of the truth, for the honor of your vocation, for your incorporating into the Church, for the priuiledge of the Sacraments, the free vſe of the Scriptures, the communion of Saints, the benefit of their prayers, the ayde of their counſels, the pleaſure of their conuerſation; for the beginnings of regeneration, any foot-ſteps of faith, hope, louelove, zeale, patience, peace, ioy, conſcionableneſſe, for any deſire of more. Then let your ſoule mount higheſt of all, into her heauen, and acknowledge thoſe celeſtiall graces of her election to glory, redemption from-ſhame and death, of the interceſſion of her Sauiour, of the preparation of her place; and there let her ſtay a while vponupon the meditation of her future ioyes. This done, the way is made for your requeſt; Sue now to your God; as for grace to anſwer theſe mercies, ſo to ſee wherein you hauehave not anſwered them: From him therefore caſt your eyes downe vponupon your ſelfe: and as ſome carefull Iuſticer doth a ſuſpected fellon, ſo doe you ſtrictly examine your heart, of what you hauehave done that day; of what you ſhould hauehave done; enquire whether your thoughts hauehave beene ſequeſtred to God, ſtrangers from the world, fixed on heauen; whether iuſt, charitable, lowly, pure, Chriſtian; whether your ſenſes hauehave beene holily guided, neither to let in temptations, nor to let out ſinnes; whether your ſpeeches hauehave not beene offenſiue, vaine, raſh, indiſcreet, vnſauoury, vnedifying; whether your actions hauehave beene warrantable, expedient, comely, profitable. Thence, ſee if you hauehave beene negligent in watching your heart, expence of your time, exerciſes of deuotion, performance of good workes, reſiſtance of temptations, good vſe of good examples: and compare your preſent eſtate with the former: looke iealouſly, whether your ſoule hath gained or loſt; loſt ought of the heat of her louelove; tenderneſſe of conſcience, feare to offend, ſtrength of vertue; gained, more increaſe of grace, more aſſurance of glory. And when you find (alas! who can but find?) either holineſſe decayed, or euill done, or good omitted, caſt downe your eyes, ſtrike your breſt, humble your ſoule, and ſigh to him whom you hauehave offended; ſue for pardon as for life, heartily, yearningly: inioyne your ſelfe carefull amendment, redouble your holy reſolutions, ſtrike hands with God in a new couenant: my ſoule for your ſafety. Much of this good counſell I confeſſe to hauehave learned from the Table of an vnknown Author, at Antwerp. It contented me: and therefore I hauehave thus made it (by many alterations) my owne for forme, and yours for the vſe: Our practice ſhall both commend it, and make vsus happy.
To Mr. J.F. one of the company of the Turkiſh Merchants. EP. IX. Diſcourſing of the lawfulneſſe of conuerſation and trade with Infidels and Hereticks, and ſhewing how farre and wherein it is allowable.
IN matter of ſinne I dare not diſcommend much feare. Looſeneſſe is both a more ordinary fault, and more dangerous, then exceſſe of care: yet herein the minde may be vniuſtly tortured, and ſuffer without gaine. It is good to know our bounds, and keep them; that ſo we may neither be careleſly offenſiue, nor needleſly afflicted. How farre we may trauell to, and conuerſe with Infidels, with Hereticks, is a long demand, and cannot be anſwered at once. I ſee extreams on both hands, and a path of truth betwixt both, of no ſmall latitude. Firſt, I commend not this courſe to you; it is well, if I allow it. The earth is large, and truth hath ample Dominions; and thoſe not incommodious, not vnpleaſant. To neglect the maine bleſſings with competency of the inferiour; for abundance of the inferiour, without the maine, were a choice vnwiſe and vnequall. While we are free, who would take ought but the beſt? Whither goe you? HaueHave we not as temperate a Sunne, as faire an Heauen, as fertile an Earth, as rich a Sea, as ſweet Companions? What ſtand I on equality? a firmer peace, a freer Goſpell, an happier gouernment then the world can ſhew you? yet you muſt goe: I giuegive you allowance; but limited, and full of cautions: like an inquiſitiue Officer, you muſt let me aske, who, how, when, whither, why, how long, and accordingly determine. To communicate with them in their falſe ſeruices, who will not ſpit at, as impious? We ſpeake of conuerſing with men, not with idolatries: ciuilly, not in Religion: not in workes of darkneſſe, but buſineſſe of commerce and common indifferencies. Fie on thoſe Rimmonites, that plead an vpright ſoule in a proſtrate body: Hypocrites, that pretend a Nathanael in the skin of a Nicodemus. God hates their ſecret halting, and will reuenge it. Let goe their vices, and ſpeake of their perſons: Thoſe may bee conuerſed with; not with familiarity, not with intireneſſe; as men qualified, not as friends. Traffique is here allowed, not amity; not friendſhip, but peace. Paul will allow you to feaſt at their table, not to frequent it: yet not this to all. Chriſtianity hath all ſtatures in it, all ſtrengths: children, and men, weaklings, Gyants. For a feeble vngrounded Chriſtian, this verie company is dangerous: ſafe for the ſtrong and inſtructed. Turne a child looſe into an Apothecaries ſhop, or an Idiot, that gally-pot which lookes faireſt, ſhall hauehave his firſt hand, tho full of poyſonous drugs: where the iudicious would chooſe the wholeſomeſt, led not by ſenſe, but skill. Setledneſſe in the truth will cauſe vsus to hate and ſcorne ridiculous impiety: and that hate will ſettle vsus the more; where the vnſtayed may grow to leſſe diſlike, and indanger his owne infection. He had need bee a reſolute Caleb that ſhould goe to ſee the land of Canaan; yet not ſuch a one, vponupon eueryevery occaſion: meete pleaſure or curioſity I dare not allow in this aduenture. The command of authority, or neceſſity of traffique, I cannot reiect: Or if after ſufficient preuention, deſire to informe our ſelues thorowly in a forraine Religion, or ſtate (eſpecially for publike vſe) cary vsus abroad, I cenſure not. In all matter of danger, a calling is a good warrant; and it cannot want perill to goe vnſent: Neither is there ſmall weight in the quality of the place, and continuance of the time. It is one caſe where the profeſſion of our religion is free, another where reſtrained; perhaps not without conſtraint to idolatry: where wee hauehave meanes for our ſoules, and allowed Miniſtery, the cauſe muſt needs differ from a place of neceſſary blindneſs, of peeuiſh ſuperſtition. To paſſe thorow an infected place is one thing, to dwell in it another: Each of theſe giuegive a new ſtate to the cauſe, and look for a diuerſe anſwer. But as in all theſe outward actions, ſo here, moſt force (I confeſſe) lies in the intention; which is able to giuegive not toleration onelyonly, to our trauell, but praiſe. To conuerſe with them without, but in a purpoſe of their conuerſion, and with endeuour to fetch them in, can be no other then an holy courſe: wherein that the Ieſuits hauehave beene (by their owne ſaying) more ſeruiceable in their Indies and China; let them thank (after their number and leiſure) their ſhelter of Spaine: the opportunity of whoſe patronage hath preferred them to vsus; not their more forward deſires. In ſhort, companying with Infidels may not be ſimply condemned; who can hold ſo, that ſees Lot in Sodō, Iſrael with the Aegyptians, Abraham & Iſaac with their Abimelechs; Roſes among thornes, and pearles among much mud; and, for all, Chriſt among Publicans & Sinners? ſo we neither be infected by them, nor they further infected by our confirmation; nor the weake Chriſtian by vsus infected with offence, nor the Goſpel infected with reproch, what danger can there be? If neither we, nor they, nor the weake, nor (which is higheſt) the name of God be wronged, who can complaine? You hauehave mine opinion; diſpoſe now of your ſelfe as you dare: The earth is the Lords, and you are his; whereſoeuer he ſhall find you, be ſure you ſhall find him eueryevery-where.
To the Gentlemen of his Highneſſe Court. EP. X. A deſcription of a good and faithfull Courtier.
WHiles I aduentured other Characters into the light, I reſerued one for you; whom I account no ſmall part of my ioy; The Character of What you are, of What you ſhould be: Not that I arrogate to my ſelfe, more then ordinary skill in theſe high points: I deſire not to deſcribe a Courtier; How ſhould I, that hauehave but ſeene and ſaluted the ſeat of Princes? Or why ſhould I, whoſe thoughts are ſequeſtred to the Court of heauen? But if I would decypher a good Courtier, who can herein controll my endeauor? Goodneſſe in all formes is but the iuſt ſubiect of our profeſſion: what my obſeruation could not, no leſſe certaine rule ſhall afford me. Our Diſcourſe hath this freedome, that it may reach beyōd our eyes with beleefe. If your experience agree not with my ſpeculation, diſtruſt me. I care not for their barking, which condemne me, at firſt, of incongruity: as if theſe two tearmes were ſo diſſonant, that one ſentence could not hold them. The Poet ſlanders, that abandons all good men from Courts. Who knowes not that the Aegyptian Court had a Moſes; the Court of Samaria, an Obadiah; of Ieruſalem an Ebed-melech; of Damaſcus a Naaman; of Babylon a Daniel; of Aethiopia a good Treaſurer; and very Nero's Court in Pauls time, his Saints? That I may not tell, how the Courts of Chriſtian Princes hauehave beene likened by our Eccleſiaſticall Hiſtorians, to ſome royall Colledges for their order, grauity, goodneſs mixed with their Maieſty; and that I may willingly forbeare to compare (as, but for enuy, I durſt) yours with theirs; I ſpeake boldly, the Court is as nigh to heauen as the Cell, and doth no leſſe require and admit ſtrict holineſſe. I baniſh therefore hence all impietie, and dare preſage his ruine, whoſe foundation is not laid in goodneſſe. Our Courtier is no other then vertuous, and ſerues the God of heauen as his firſt Maker, and from him deriues his duty to theſe earthen gods; as one that knowes the thrones of heauen and earth are not contrary, but ſubordinate, and that beſt obedience ſprings from deuotion: his ability and will hauehave both conſpired to make him perfectly ſeruiceable, and his diligence waits but for an opportunity. In the factions of ſome great riuals of honour, he holds himſelfe in a free neutrality, accounting it ſafter in vniuſt frayes to look on, then to ſtrike; and if neceſſity of occaſion will needs wind him into the quarrell, he chuſes not the ſtronger part, but the better; reſoluing rather to fall with innocence and truth, then to ſtand with powerfull iniuſtice. In the changes of fauours and frowns he changeth not; his ſincere honeſty beares him thorow all alterations, with wiſe boldneſſe, if not with ſucceſſe: and when hee ſpies clouds in the eyes of his Prince (which of long he will not ſeeme to ſee) his cleare heart giues him a cleare face; and if he may be admitted, his loyall breath ſhall ſoone diſpell thoſe vapours of ill ſuggeſtion: but if after all attempts of wind and ſunne he ſees them ſetled, and the might of his accuſers will not let him ſeeme as he is; he giues way in ſilence, without ſtomach, and waits vponupon Time. He is not ouer-haſtily intent vponupon his owne promotion; as one that ſeekes his Prince, not himſelfe; and ſtudies more to deſerue then riſe, ſcorning either to grow great by his owne bribes, or rich by the bribes of others. His officious ſilence craues more then others words; and if that language be not heard, nor vnderſtood, hee opens his mouth, yet late and ſparingly; without baſhfulneſſe, without importunity; caring onelyonly to motion, not caring to plead. He is affable and courteous; not vainly popular, abaſing his Princes fauour to wooe the worthleſſe applauſe of the vulgar; approuing by his actions that he ſeekes one, not many; if not rather one in many. His Alphabet is his Princes diſpoſition; which once learned, hee plies with diligent ſeruice, not with flattery; not commending eueryevery action as good, nor the beſt too much, and in preſence. When hee finds an apparant growth of fauour, hee dares not glory in it to others, leſt he ſhould ſolicite their enuy, and hazard the ſhame of his owne fall; but enioyes it in quiet thankfulneſſe: not neglecting it, nor drawing it on too faſt: Ouer-much forwardneſſe argues no perpetuity. How oft hauehave we knowne the weake beginnings of a likely fire ſcattered with ouer-ſtrong a blaſt? And if another riſe higher, he enuieth not; onelyonly emulating that mans merit, and ſuſpecting his own. Neither the name of the Court, nor the grace of a Prince, nor applauſe of his inferiors, can lift him aboue himſelfe, or lead him to affect any other then a wiſe mediocrity. His owne ſincerity cannot make him ouer-credulous. They are few and well tried, whom hee dares vſe; or perhaps obliged by his owne fauours: ſo in all employments of friendſhip he is wary without ſuſpicion, and without credulity charitable. He is free as of heart, ſo of tongue, to ſpeake what he ought, not what he might: neuer but (what Princes eares are not alwayes inured to) meere Truth: yet that, tempred for the meaſure, and time, with honeſt diſcretion. But if he meet with ought that might bee beneficiall to his Maſter, or the State, or whoſe concealment might proue preiudiciall to either, neither feare nor gaine can ſtop his mouth. He is not baſely querulous, not forward to ſpend his complaints on the diſgraced, not abiding to build his owne fauours vponupon the vniuſt ruines of an oppreſſed fortune. The errors of his fellowes hee reports with fauour; their vertues with aduantage. He is a good husband of his houres; equally deteſting idleneſſe and baſe diſports; and placing all his free time vponupon ingenuous ſtudies, or generous delights; ſuch as may make either his body or minde, more fit for noble ſeruice. He liſteth not to come to councell vncalled, nor vnbidden to intermeddle with ſecrets, whether of perſon, or ſtate; which yet once impoſed, hee manageth, with ſuch fidelity and wiſedome, as well argue him to hauehave refrained, not out of feare, but iudgement. He knowes how to repay an iniury with thankes, and a benefit with vſury; the one out of a wiſe patience without malicious cloſeneſſe; the other out of a bounteous thankfulneſſe. His life is his owne willing ſeruant, and his Princes free vaſſall; which he accounts lent to him, that he may giuegive it for his maſter: the intercepting of whoſe harmes, he holds both his duty, and honour: and whether he be vſed as his ſword, or his ſhield, he doth both with cheerefulneſſe. He can ſo demeane himſelfe in his officious attendance, that he equally auoids ſatiety and obliuion; not needleſly lauiſh of himſelfe, to ſet out and ſhew his parts alwayes at the higheſt; nor wilfully concealed in great occaſions. He loues to deſerue and to hauehave friends, but to truſt rather to his owne vertue. Reaſon and honeſty (next vnderunder religion) are his Councellers: which he followes without care of the euent, not without foreſight. In a iudgement of vnkindneſſe and enuy, he neuer caſts the firſt ſtone, and hates to picke thankes by detraction. He vndertakes none but worthy ſutes, ſuch as are free from baſeneſſe and iniuſtice; ſuch as is neither ſhame to aske, nor diſhonour to grant; not ſuffering priuate affections to ouer-weigh publique equity or conuenience; and better brooking a friends want, then an ill precedent; and thoſe which he yeeldeth to accept, hee loues not to linger in an afflicting hope: a preſent anſwer ſhall diſpatch the feares or deſires of his expecting client. His breſt is not a ciſterne to retaine, but as a conduit-pipe, to vent the reaſonable and honeſt petitions of his friend. Finally, he ſo liues, as one that accounts not Princes fauours hereditary; as one that wil deſerue their perpetuity, but doubt their change; as one that knowes there is a wide world beſide the Court, and aboue this world an Heauen.
EPISTLES. THE FOVRTH DECAD.
BY IOS. HALL.
LONDON, Printed for THOMAS PAVIER, MILES FLESHER, and John Haviland. 1624.