Chapter 11: Introduction to the Use of the Doctrine — Inferences of Truth

An introduction to the use of the doctrine previously proposed. The use divided into inferences of truth. Rules of duty. 1. Inference: that blessedness consists not in any sensual enjoyment. 2. Inference: the spirit of man (since it is capable of so high a blessedness) a being of high excellency.

And now our greatest work is still remaining — the improvement of so momentous a truth to the affecting and transforming of hearts. That (if the Lord shall so far grant his assistance and blessing) they may taste the sweetness, feel the power, and bear the impression and image of it. This is the work of greatest necessity, difficulty, and excellence, to which all that has been done previously is but subservient and introductory. Give me leave, therefore, Reader, to stop you here, and demand of you before you go further — have you any design in turning over these leaves of bettering your spirit? Of getting a more refined, heavenly temper of soul — are you weary of your dross and earth, and longing for the first fruits and beginnings of glory? Do you wish for a soul fit for the blessedness previously described! What is here written is designed for your help and furtherance. But if you are looking on these pages with a wanton, rolling eye, hunting for novelties, or what may gratify a prurient wit, a coy and squeamish fancy — go, read a romance, or some piece of drollery; know here is nothing for your turn; and dread to meddle with matters of everlasting concern without a serious spirit; read not another line until you have sighed out this request: Lord, keep me from trifling with the things of eternity. Charge your soul to consider that what you are now reading must be added to your account against the great day. It is amazing to think with what vanity of mind the most weighty things of religion are entertained among Christians. Things that should swallow up our souls, drink up our spirits, are heard as a tale that is told, disregarded by most, scorned by too many. What can be spoken so important, or of so tremendous consequence, or of so confessed truth, or with so awful solemnity, and premised mention of the sacred name of the Lord, as not to find either a very slight entertainment or contemptuous rejection? And this by persons avowing themselves Christians! We seem to have little or no advantage in urging men upon their own principles, and with things they most readily and professedly assent to. Their hearts are as much untouched and void of impression by the Christian doctrine, as if they were of another religion. How unlike is the Christian world to the Christian doctrine! The seal is fair and excellent, but the impression is languid or not visible. Where is that serious godliness, that heavenliness, that purity, that spirituality, that righteousness, that peace to which the Christian religion is most aptly designed to work and form the spirits of men? We think to be saved by an empty name, and glory in the show and appearance of that, the life and power of which we hate and deride. It is a reproach with us not to be called a Christian, and a greater reproach to be one. If such and such doctrines obtain not, in our professed belief, we are heretics or infidels; if they do, in our practice, we are precisians and fools. To be so serious, and circumspect, and strict, and holy, to make the practice of godliness so much our business, as the known and avowed principles of our religion do plainly exact from us (indeed, though we come, as we cannot but do, unspeakably short of that required measure) is to make oneself a common derision and scorn. Not to be professedly religious is barbarous, to be so in good earnest ridiculous. In other things men are accustomed to act and practice according to the known rules of their several callings and professions; and he would be reckoned the common fool of the neighborhood who should not do so. The farmer who should sow when others reap, or contrive his harvest into the depth of winter, or sow fitches and expect to reap wheat; the merchant who should venture abroad his most precious commodities in a leaky vessel, without pilot or compass, or to places not likely to afford him any valuable return. In religion only it must be counted absurd to be and do according to its known agreed principles, and he a fool who shall but practice as all about him profess to believe. Lord! From where comes this apprehended inconsistency between the profession and practice of religion! What has thus stupefied and unmanned the world! That seriousness in religion should be thought the character of a fool! That men must visibly make a mockery of the most fundamental articles of faith, only to save their reputation, and be afraid to be serious lest they should be thought mad! Were the doctrine here opened, believed in earnest, were the due proper impression of it upon our spirits, or (as the pagan moralists' expression is) were our mind transfigured into it — what manner of persons should we be, in all holy conversation and godliness!

But it is thought enough to have it in our creed though never in our hearts, and such as will not deride the holiness it should produce, yet endeavor it not; nor go about to apply and urge truths upon their own souls to any such purpose. What should turn into grace, and spirit, and life, turns all into notion and talk; and men think all is well, if their heads be filled and their tongues tipped with what should transform their souls and govern their lives. How are the most awful truths, that should have greatest power upon men's spirits, trifled with as matters only of speculation and discourse! They are heard but as empty, airy words, and immediately evaporate, passing away into words again — like food (as Seneca speaks) that comes up immediately, the same as it was taken in; which (as he says) profits not, nor makes any accession to the body at all. A like case (as another ingeniously speaks) as if sheep, when they have been feeding, should present their shepherds with the very grass itself which they have cropped, and show how much they had eaten. No, says he, they concoct it, and so yield them wool and milk. And so (says he) do not you (namely, when you have been instructed) immediately go and utter words among the more ignorant (meaning they should not do so in a way of ostentation to show how much they knew more than others) but works that follow, upon the concoction of what has been by words made known to them. (Let Christians be ashamed that they need this instruction from heathen teachers.)

"Your words were found and I did eat them" (says the Prophet) "and your word was to me the joy, and rejoicing of my heart." Divine truth is only so far at present grateful, or useful for future, as it is received by faith and consideration, and in the love thereof into the very heart, and there turned (in succum & sanguinem) into real nutriment to the soul: so shall man live by the word of God. Hence is the application of it (both personal and ministerial) of so great necessity.

If the truths of the Gospel were of the same alloy, with some parts of philosophy, whose end is attained as soon as they are known — if the Scripture doctrine (the whole entire system of it) were not a doctrine after godliness, if it were not designed to sanctify and make men holy, or if the hearts of men did not reluctate, were easily receptive of its impressions, our work were as soon done, as such a doctrine were nakedly proposed. But the state of the case in these respects is known and evident. The tenor and aspect of Gospel truth speaks its end; and experience too plainly speaks the oppositeness of men's spirits. All (therefore) we read and hear is lost if it be not urgently applied. (The Lord grant it be not then too.)

Therefore, Reader, let your mind and heart concur in the following improvement of this doctrine which will be wholly comprehended under these two heads: Inferences of Truth, Rules of Duty — that are consequent and connatural thereto.

1. Inferences of Truth educible from it.

1. True blessedness consists not in any sensual enjoyment. The blessedness of a man can be but one; at most only one. He can have but one highest and best good. And its proper character is that it finally satisfies and gives rest to his spirit. This the face and likeness of God does; his glory beheld and participated. Here then alone his full blessedness must be understood to lie.

Therefore as this might many other ways be evinced to be true, so it evidently appears to be the proper issue of the present truth; and is plainly proved by it. But alas! it needs a great deal more to be pressed than proved. O that it were but as much considered, as it is known. The experience of almost 6,000 years has (one would think sufficiently) testified the incompetency of every worldly thing to make men happy, that the present pleasing of our senses, and the gratification of our animal part is not blessedness — that men are still left unsatisfied notwithstanding. But the practice and course of the world is such, as if this were some late, and rare experiment: which (for curiosity) every one must be trying over again. Every age renews the inquiry after an earthly felicity; the design is entailed (as the Spanish designs are said to be) and reinforced with as great a confidence, and vigor from age to age, as if none had been baffled, or defeated in it before; or that it were very likely to take at last. Had this been the alone folly of the first age, it had admitted some excuse, but that the world should still be cheated by the same so oft-defeated impostures, presents us with a sad prospect, of the deplorable state of mankind. This their way is their folly, yet their posterity approve, etc. The wearied wits and wasted estates, laid out upon the Philosopher's stone, afford but a faint defective representation of this case. What Chemistry can extract heaven out of a clod of clay? What art can make blessedness spring and grow out of this cold earth? If all created nature be vexed and tortured never so long, who can expect this Elixir? Yet after so many frustrated attempts, so much time, and strength, and labor lost, men are still as eagerly and vainly busy as ever. Are perpetually tossed by unsatisfied desires; laboring in the [reconstructed: fire], wearying themselves for very vanity, distracted by the uncertain (and often contrary) motions of a ravenous appetite, and a blind mind; that would be happy, and knows not how. With what sounding bowels, with what compassionate tears, should the state of mankind be lamented, by all that understand the worth of a soul? What serious heart does not melt, and bleed for miserable men, that are (through a just nemesis) so perpetually mocked with shadows, cheated with false delusive appearances, infatuated and betrayed by their own senses. They walk but in a vain show, disquieting themselves in vain; their days flee away as a shadow, their strength is only labor and sorrow; while they rise up early, and lie down late, to seek rest in trouble, and life in death. They run away from blessedness while they pretend to pursue it, and suffer themselves to be led down without regret to perdition; as an ox to the slaughter, and a fool to the correction of the stocks, till a dart strike through their liver. Descend patiently the chambers of death, not so much as once thinking, where are we going? Dream of nothing but an earthly paradise, till they find themselves amidst the infernal regions.

2. The spirit of man (in as much as it is capable of such a blessedness) appears an excellent creature. Its natural capacity is supposed; for the Psalmist speaks of his own numerical person the same that then wrote; "I shall behold; shall be satisfied" — take away this supposition: and it could not be so said; or, as in [reconstructed: Job's] words; "I shall behold him, and not another for me" — it would certainly be another, not the same. Judge hence the excellency of a human soul (the principal subject of this blessedness) without addition of any new natural powers, it is capable of the vision of God; of partaking, to satisfaction, the divine likeness. And is not that an excellent creature, that is capable, not only of surveying the creation of God, passing through the several ranks, and orders of created beings; but of ascending to the Being of beings, of contemplating the divine excellencies, of beholding the bright and glorious face of the blessed God himself; till it have looked itself into His very likeness, and have his entire image inwrought into it.

The dignity, then, of the Spirit of man is not to be estimated by the circumstances of its present state; as it is, here, clad with a sordid flesh, inwrapped in darkness, and groveling in the dust of the earth; but consider the improvableness of its natural powers and faculties; the high perfections it may attain, and the foundations of how glorious a state are laid in its very nature. And then who can tell whether its possible advancement is more to be admired, or its present calamity deplored. Might this consideration be permitted to settle, and fix itself in the hearts of men; could anything be so grievous to them, as their so vast distance from such an attainable blessedness: or anything so industriously avoided, so earnestly abhorred, as that viler dejection and abasement of themselves, when they are so low already by Divine disposition, to descend lower by their own wickedness; when they are already fallen as low as Earth, to precipitate themselves as low as Hell. How generous a disdain should that thought raise in men's spirits, of that vile servitude to which they have subjected themselves, a servitude to brutal lusts, to sensual inclinations, and desires; as if the highest happiness they did project to themselves were the satisfaction of these! Would they not with a heroic scorn, turn away their eyes from beholding vanity, did they consider their own capacity of beholding the divine glory? Could they satisfy themselves to become like the beasts that perish, did they think of being satisfied with the likeness of God. And who can conceive to what degree this aggravates the sin of man, that he so little minds (as it will their misery, that shall fall short of) this blessedness! They had spirits capable of it. Consider, you sensual man whose happiness lies in colors, and tastes, and sounds (as the moralist ingeniously speaks) that herded yourself with brute creatures, and aimed no higher than they; as little looked up, and are as much a stranger to the thoughts and desires of Heaven; your creation did not set you so low; they are where they were; but you have fallen from your excellency. God did not make you a brute creature, but you yourself did. You have yet a spirit about you, that might understand its own origins, and alliance to the Father of Spirits; that has a designation in its nature to higher conversations and employments. Many myriads of such spirits, of no higher (original) excellency than your own, are now in the presence of the Highest Majesty; are prying into the eternal glory, contemplating the perfections of the Divine Nature, beholding the unveiled face of God, which transfuses upon them its own satisfying likeness. You are not so low-born, but you might attain this state also. That Sovereign Lord, and Author of all things, calls you to it; his goodness invites you, his authority enjoins you, to turn your thoughts, and designs this way. Fear not to be thought immodest or presumptuous; it is but a dutiful ambition; an obedient aspiring. You are under a law to be thus happy; nor does it bind you to any natural impossibility; it designs instruction to you, not delusion; guidance, not mockery. When you are required to apply, and turn your soul to this blessedness; it is not the same thing, as if you were bidden to remove a mountain, to pluck down a star, or create a world. You are here put upon nothing but what is agreeable to the primeval nature of man; and though it be to a vast height, you must ascend; it is by so easy and familiar methods, by so apt gradations, that you will be sensible of no violence done to your nature, in all your way. Do but make some trials with yourself; you will soon find, nothing is your hindrance, but an unwilling heart. Try however (which will suffice to let you discern your own capacity, and will be a likely means to make you willing) how far you can understand, and trace the way (complying with it, at least as reasonable) that leads to this blessedness. Retire a little into yourself; forget a while your relation to this sensible world. Summon in your reflecting and considering powers. You will presently perceive you are not already happy, you are in some part unsatisfied; and from there will easily understand, inasmuch as you are not happy in yourself, that it must be something, as yet, without you, that must make you so; and nothing can make you happy, but what is, in that respect, better than yourself; or has some perfection in it, which you find wanting to yourself. A little further discourse or reasoning with yourself, will easily persuade you, you have something better about you, than that luggage of flesh you go with to and fro; for you well know, that is not capable of reason and discourse; and that the power of doing so is a higher perfection than any you can attribute to it; and that therefore besides your bulky material part, you must have such a thing as a spirit, or soul belonging to you; to which, that, and your other perfections (not applicable to gross matter) may agree. You will readily assent; that you can never be happy, while your better and more noble part is unsatisfied; and that it can only be satisfied with something suitable and connatural to it. That therefore your happiness must lie in something more excellent than this material or sensible world, otherwise it cannot be gratifying and suitable to your soul, indeed in something that may be better and more excellent than your soul itself, otherwise how can it better and perfect that. As you cannot but acknowledge your soul to be spiritual and immaterial, so, if you attend, you will soon see cause to acknowledge a spiritual or immaterial being, better and more perfect than your own soul. For its perfections were not self-original, they were therefore derived from something, for that reason, confessedly, more excellent, from which at last also you will find it unavoidably imposed upon you, to apprehend, and adore a being absolutely perfect; and than which, there cannot be a more perfect; the first subject, and common fountain of all perfections; which has them, underived in himself, and can derive them to inferior created beings. Upon this eternal, and self-essential being, the infinitely blessed God; you necessarily depend and owe, therefore, constant subjection, and obedience to him. You have indeed offended him; and are thereby cut off from all interest in him, and intercourse with him; but he has proclaimed in his Gospel, his willingness to be reconciled, and that, through the sufferings, righteousness, and intercession of his only begotten Son, your merciful Redeemer, the way is open for your restitution, and recovery; that you may partake from him whatever perfection is wanting to your blessedness. Nothing is required from you in order to this, but that relying on, and submitting to your Redeemer's gracious conduct, you turn your mind and heart towards your God, to know him, and conform to him; to view, and imitate the Divine perfections; the faithful endeavor, and inchoation of which, will have this issue, and reward; the clear vision, and full participation of them. So that your way and work differ not, in nature and kind, from your end and reward; your duty from your blessedness. Nor are either repugnant to the natural constitution of your own soul. What violence is there done to reasonable nature in all this? Or what can hinder you herein, but a most culpable, averse, and wicked heart. Did your reason ever turn your soul from God? Was it not your corruption only? What vile images do you receive from earthly objects, which deform your soul, while you industriously avert your Maker's likeness, that would perfect it? How full is your mind and heart of vanity? How empty of God? Were this through natural incapacity, you were an innocent creature; it were your infelicity (negative I mean) not your crime; and must be resolved into the Sovereign will of your Creator, not your own disobedient will. But when this shall appear, the true state of your case, and you shall hear it from the mouth of your Judge.

You did not like to retain me in your knowledge or love; you had reason and will, to use about meaner objects, but none for me; you could sometimes have spared me a glance, a cast of your eye at least, when you did rather choose it should be in the ends of the earth. A thought of me had cost you as little, might as soon have been thought, as of this or that vanity; but your heart was not with me. I banish you, therefore, that presence which you never loved. I deny you the vision you did always shun, and the impressions of my likeness which you did ever hate. I eternally abandon you to the darkness, and deformities which were ever grateful to you. Yours is a self-created hell; the fruit of your own choice; no invitations or persuasions on mine could keep you from it. How will you excuse your fault, or avert your doom! What arguments or apologies shall defend your cause, against these pleadings. In fact, what armor shall defend your soul, against its own wounding self-reflections hereupon? When every thought shall be a dart; and a convicted conscience, an ever-gnawing worm; a fiery serpent; with endless involutions, ever winding about your heart? It will now be sadly thought on, how often you saw your way, and declined it, knew your duty, and waived it; understood your interest, and fled from it; approved the things that were more excellent, and rejected them. How often you did prevaricate with your light, and run counter to your own eyes; while things, confessedly, most worthy of your thoughts, and pursuits, were overlooked; and empty shadows eagerly pursued. Your own heart will now feelingly tell you, it was not want of capacity, but inclination that cut you off from blessedness. You will now remind yourself, that when life, and immortality were brought to light before your eyes, in the Gospel; and you were told of this future blessedness of the saints, and pressed to follow holiness, as without which you could not see God; it was a reasonable man was spoken to, that had a power to understand, and judge, and choose; not a stone or a brute. Your capacity for this blessedness makes you capable also of the most exquisite torment, and [reconstructed: reflected on], actually infers it. How passionately (but vainly) will you then cry out, O that I had filled up the place of any the meanest creature throughout the whole creation of God, that I had been a [reconstructed: Gnat], or a fly, or had never been rather, than to have so noble, abused powers eternally to reckon for! Indeed, you must reckon for not only the actual light, and good impressions you had, but even all you were capable of, and might have attained. You shall now recount with anguish, and horror (and rend your own soul with the thoughts) what you might now have been; how excellent and glorious a creature! Had you not contrived your own misery and conspired with the Devil, against yourself, how to deform, and destroy your own soul. While this remembrance shall always afresh return, that nothing was enjoined you as a duty; or proposed, as your blessedness; but what you were made capable of, and that it was not fatal necessity, but a willful choice made you miserable.