Chapter 19: Rules 5 and 6 — Raising Desires to Future Blessedness and Joyful Expectation

Rule 5. Directing to raise our desires above the actual or possible attainments of this our present; and terminate them upon the future consummate state of blessedness. The rule explained and pressed by sundry considerations. Rule 6. That we add to a desirous pursuit, a joyful expectation of this blessedness; which is pursued in certain subordinate directions.

5. That notwithstanding all our present or possible attainments in this imperfect state on earth; we direct fervent vigorous desires towards the perfect, and consummate state of glory itself; not designing to ourselves a plenary satisfaction, and rest in anything on this side of it.

That is; that forgetting what is behind, we reach forth not only to what is immediately before us; the next step to be taken; but that our eye and desire aim forward at the ultimate period of our race, terminate upon the eternal glory itself; and that not only as a measure, according to which we would some way proportion our present attainments, but at the very mark, which (itself) we would gladly hit and reach home to.

And that this be not only the habitual bent, and tendency of our spirits; but that we keep up such desires, in frequent (and as much as is possible) continual exercise.

Indeed, and that such actual desires be not only faint, and sluggish wishes, but full of lively efficacy, and vigor; in some measure proportionable to our last end, and highest good; beyond, and above which we neither esteem, nor expect any other enjoyment.

Whatever we may possibly attain to here, we should still be far from projecting to ourselves a state of rest on this side consummate glory; but still urge ourselves to a continual ascent; so as to mount above, not only all enjoyments of any other kind, but all degrees of enjoyment in this kind, that are beneath perfection.

Still it must be remembered, this is not the state of our final rest. The mass of glory is yet in reserve, we are not yet so high as the highest heavens.

If we gain but the top of Mount Tabor, we are apt to say, it is good to be here, and forget the longer journey yet before us; loath to think of a further advance; when, were our spirits right, however far we may suppose ourselves to have attained, it would be matter of continual joy to us to think high perfections are still attainable; that we are yet capable of greater things, than what we have until now compassed; our souls can yet comprehend more. Nature intends what is most perfect in every creature; I think the Divine Nature in the New Creature should not design lower, or cease aspiring, till it have attained its ultimate perfection, its culminating point; till Grace turn into Glory.

Let us therefore Christians bestir ourselves, let us open, and turn our eyes upon the eternal glory. Let us view it well, and then demand of our own souls, why are our desires so faint and slothful? Why do they so seldom pierce through the intervening distance, and reach home to what they professedly level at? So rarely touch this blessed mark? How can we forbear to be angry with ourselves, that so glorious an end should not more powerfully attract? That our hearts should not more sensibly find themselves drawn? And all the powers of the soul beset on work, by the attractive power of that glory?

It certainly concerns us not to sit still, under so manifest a distemper. But if the proposal of the object; the discourse (all this while) of this blessed state, do not move us to make some further trials with ourselves, see what urging and reasoning with our souls; what rubbing and chasing our hearts will do. And there is a twofold trial we may in this kind make upon our spirits. What the sense of shame will work with us, whether our hearts cannot be made sensible to suppose how vile, and wretched a temper it is to be undesirous of glory. And then what sense of praise can effect, or what impression it may make upon us to consider the excellency, and worth, the high reasonableness of that temper, and posture of soul, which I am now persuading to [a continual desirousness of that blessed glorious state.]

1. As to the former. Let us bethink ourselves, can we answer it to God, or to our own souls; that we should indulge ourselves in a continual negligence of our eternal blessedness? A blessedness, consisting in the vision, and participation of the Divine Glory?

Have we been dreaming all this while, that God has been revealing to us this glorious state? And setting this lovely prospect before our eyes? Did it become us not to open our eyes, while he was opening Heaven to us, and representing the state which he designed to bring us to? Or will we say we have seen it, and yet desire it not? Have we been deaf and dead, while he has been calling us into eternal glory? Have all our senses been bound up all this while? Has he been speaking all along to senseless statues, to stocks, and stones, while he expected reasonable, living souls should have received the voice, and have returned an obedient, complying answer? And what answer could be expected to such a call, (a call to his Glory) below this. We desire it Lord, we would gladly be there.

And if we say we have not been all this while asleep, we saw the light that shone upon us, we heard the voice that called to us; wherewith shall we then excuse ourselves, that our desires were not moved? That our souls were not presently in a flame? Was it then that we thought all a mere [reconstructed: fiction]? That we dared not give credit to his word, when it brought us the report of the everlasting glory? Will we avow this? Is this that we will stand by? Or what else have we left to say? Have we a more plausible reason to allege, that the discovery of such a glory moved us not to desire it, than that we did not believe it? Sure this is the truth of our case. We should feel this heavenly fire always burning in our breasts, if our infidelity did not quench the coal. If we did believe, we could not but desire. But do not the thoughts of this shake our very souls, and fill us with horror and trembling? We that should be turned into indignation, and ready to burn ourselves with our own flame, and all about us, if one should give us the lie — that we should dare to put the lie upon the Eternal Truth! Upon him whose Word gave stability and being to the world, who made and sustains all things by it. That awful Word! That Word that shivers rocks and melts down mountains, that makes the inanimate creation tremble, that can in a moment blast all things, and dissolve the frame of heaven and earth, (which in the meantime it upholds) — is that become with us fabulous, lying breath? Those God-breathed Oracles, those heavenly records, which discover and describe this blessed state, are they false and foolish legends? Must that be pretended at last (if men dared) that is so totally void of all pretense? What should be the gain or advantage accruing to that eternal, all-sufficient being. What accession should be made to that infinite self-fulness by deluding a worm? Were it consistent with his nature, what could be his design to put a cheat upon poor mortal dust? If you dare not impute it to him; such a deception had a beginning, but what author can you imagine of it? Or what end? Did it proceed from a good mind, or a bad? Could a good and honest mind form so horribly wicked a design, to impose a universal delusion, and lie upon the world, in the name of the true and holy God? Or could a wicked mind frame a design so directly leveled against wickedness? Or is there anything so aptly and naturally tending to form the world to sobriety, holiness, purity of conversation, as the discovery of this future state of glory? And since the belief of future felicity is known to obtain universally among men, who could be the author of so common a deception. If you had the mind to impose a lie upon all the world, what course would you take? How would you lay the design? Or why do you in this case imagine what you do not know how to imagine? And do you not without scruple believe many things of which you never had so unquestionable evidence? Or must that faith which is the foundation of your religion and eternal hopes be the most suspected, shaking thing with you, and have of all other the least stability and rootedness in your soul? If you cannot excuse your infidelity, be ashamed of your so cold and sluggish desires of this glorious state.

And does it not argue a low, sordid spirit, not to desire and aim at the perfection you are capable of? Not to desire that blessedness which alone is suitable and satisfying to a reasonable and spiritual being? Bethink yourself a little, how low are you sunk into the dirt of the earth? How are you plunged into the [reconstructed: miry] ditch? That even your own clothes might abhor you? Is the Father of Spirits your Father? Is the world of spirits your country? Have you any relation to that heavenly progeny? Are you allied to that blessed family? And yet undesirous of the same blessedness? Can you savor nothing but what smells of the earth? Is nothing grateful to your soul but what is corrupted by so vicious and impure a tincture? Are all your delights centered in a dunghill? And the polluted pleasures of a filthy world better to you than the eternal visions and enjoyments of heaven? What, are you all made of earth? Is your soul stupefied into a clod? Have you no sense in you of anything better and more excellent? Can you look upon no glorious thing with a pleased eye? Are things only desirable and lovely to you as they are deformed? O consider the corrupted, distempered state of your spirit, and how vile a disposition it has contracted to itself. It looks too like the mundane spirit. The Spirit of the World. The Apostle speaks of it ([in non-Latin alphabet]) by way of distinction; we have not received the Spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, that we might know, or see (and no doubt it is desire that animates that eye; it is not bare speculative intuition, and no more) the things freely given us of God. Surely he whose desire does not guide his eye to the beholding of those things has received the Spirit of the world only. A spirit that conforms him to this world, makes him think only thoughts of this world, and drive the designs of this world, and speak the language of this world. A spirit that connaturalizes him to the world, makes him of a temper suitable to it. He breathes only worldly breath, carries a worldly aspect, is of a worldly conversation. O poor low spirit! That such a world should withhold you from the desire and pursuit of such glory! Are you not ashamed to think what your desires are accustomed to pitch upon, while they decline and waive this blessedness? Methinks your very shame should compel you to quit the name of a saint or a man. To forbear numbering yourself with any that pretend to immortality, and go seek pasture among the beasts of the field, with them that live that low animal life that you do, and expect no other.

And while you so fall in with the world, how highly do you gratify the pretending, and usurping God of it? The great fomentor of the sensual worldly genius; the spirit itself that works in the children of disobedience, and makes them follow the course of the world; holds them fast bound in worldly lusts, and leaves them captive at his will; causes them (after his own serpentine manner) to creep, and crawl in the dust of the earth. He is most intimate to this apostate world, informs it (as it were) and actuates it in every part; is even one great soul to it. The whole world lies in that wicked one (as the body, by best philosophers, is said to be in the soul.) The world is said to be convicted, when he is judged. He having fallen from a state of blessedness in God, has involved the world with himself in the same apostasy and condemnation; and labors to keep them fast in the bands of death. The great Redeemer of souls makes this his business, to lose, and dissolve the work of the Devil. With that wicked one you comply against your own soul, and the Redeemer of it; while you neglect to desire and pursue this blessedness. This is your debasement, and his triumph; your vile succumbency gives him the day, and his will upon you. He desires no more than that he may suppress in you all heavenly desires; and keep you thus a slave, and a prisoner (confined in your spirit to this low, dark dungeon) by your own consent. While you remain without desire after Heaven, he is secure of you, as knowing then you will take no other way, but what will bring you to the same eternal state with himself in the end. He is jealous over you, that you direct not a desire, nor glance an eye Heaven-ward: while you do not so, you are entirely subject, and give as full obedience to him; as your God requires to himself, in order to your blessedness. But is it a thing tolerable to your thoughts, that you should yield that heart obedience to the Devil against God?

And this being the state of your case, what more significant expression can you make of your contempt of Divine goodness? O the love that you neglect, while the most glorious issue, and product of it, is with you an undesired thing! Indeed, this the thing itself speaks, were there no such competition. What? that when eternal love has conceived, and is travailing to bring forth such a birth? that when it invites you to an expectation of such glory shortly to be revealed, the result of so deep counsels, and wonderful works, this should be the return from you, I desire it not? Is this your gratitude to the Father of Glory? the requital of the kindness, indeed, and of the blood of your Redeemer? If this blessedness were not desirable for itself; methinks the offerer's hand should be a sufficient endearment. But you cannot so deride or abstract it, it consists in beholding, and bearing his glorious likeness, who invites you to it, and therefore in the neglect of it, you most highly affront him.

Indeed further, is it not a monstrous unnaturalness towards yourself, as well as impiety towards God, not to desire that perfect, final blessedness? Does not everything naturally tend to its ultimate perfection and proper end? What creature would not witness against you, if you neglect, in your own capacity and kind, to aim at yours? Surely you cannot allow yourself to think anything beneath this, worthy to be owned by you, under that notion, of your highest good, and your last end. But that your spirit should labor under an aversion towards your highest good, towards your blessedness itself, is not that a dismal token upon you? If you did disaffect, and nauseate the things in which your present life is bound up, and without which you cannot live, would you not think your case [reconstructed: deplorable]? What do you think will become of your soul? whose everlasting life is bound up in that very good, which you desire not. Which cannot live that life without that good, nor with it, if you have no desire to it. O the eternal resentments, your soul will have of this cruelty. To be withheld from that, wherein its life lies? Would you not judge him unnatural, that should kill his brother, assassinate his father, starve his child? What shall be said of him that destroys himself? How may that soul lament, that ever it was yours; and say, O that I had rather been of any such lower kind, to have animated a fly, to have inspirited a vile worm, rather than to have served a reasonable beast, that, by me, knew the good it would never follow, and did not desire! But if you have any such desires, in a low degree, after this blessedness; as you think may entitle you to the name you bear, of a Saint, a Christian. Is it not still very unnatural to pursue a good approved, by your stated judgment, as [reconstructed: last] in itself, and for you, with so disproportionate, so slothful desires? For the same reason you do desire it at all; you should desire it much, indeed, and still more, and more, till you attain it, and be swallowed up into it. Your best, and last good, you can never desire too much.

And let it be considered by you, that the temper you think yourself innocent of [an habitual prevalent disaffection to the true blessedness of saints] may, for all you know, be upon you; while it appears, you are so very near the borders of it; and it appears not, with such certainty, that you partake not in it. It is not so easy a matter, critically to distinguish, and conclude of the lowest degree (hypothetically, or with application to your own case) of that desire, which is necessary to qualify you for the enjoyment of this blessedness. And is it not a matter both of shame, and terror, that you should desire your blessedness so faintly, as not to know, whether you truly desire it at all? It is true, that a certainty, among such as may be sincere, is very little common; but from where does it proceed, but from their too common indulged sloth; out of which all this is designed to awaken you. And the commonness of which does as little detract from the reproach, and sinfulness, as from the danger of it? It is but a poor defense, for what is intrinsically evil in itself, that it is common.

But further, as the case is, this is so reproachful a thing, even in common estimate, [not to desire Heaven, and eternal glory, or to desire it with very cold and careless desires] that there are few will profess it, or own it to be their temper, much fewer that will undertake to excuse, or justify it. It is so evilly thought of, that among merely sober and rational men, it can never find an advocate, or any that will afford it patronage. The generality pretend a desire of going to Heaven, and being with God. If any be so observant of themselves, as to know, and so ingenious, as to confess it, otherwise with them, they complain of it as their fault, and say, they would gladly have it redressed, but are far from assuming that confidence to defend, or plead for it. Consider then, will you persist in such a temper and disposition of mind, as all men condemn? And be guilty of so odious a thing, as shall be censured and blamed by the common concurrent vote and judgment of mankind? You would be ashamed to stand forth, and profess openly to men, that you desire an earthly felicity more than a blessedness in Heaven: or at least, that you are so indifferent, and the scales hang even with you, that you can hardly tell which way they incline most. And are you not ashamed that this should be your usual temper, however much you conceal it from the notice, and observation of the world?

Moreover, how can it escape your serious reflection that if you pretend it otherwise with you, it is but to add one sin to another, and cover your carnality with hypocrisy, and dissimulation? Indeed, while you continue in that temper of spirit, not to desire this blessedness as your supreme end, the whole of your religion is but an empty show, an artificial disguise; it carries an appearance and pretense, as if you were aiming at God and glory, while your heart is set another way, and the bent of your soul secretly carries you a counter-course. Has not religion an aspect toward blessedness? What mean your praying, your hearing, your sacramental communion; if you have not a design for eternal glory? What make you in this way, if you have not your heart set toward this end?

Nor is it more dishonest and unjust than it is foolish and absurd, that the disposition, and tendency of your soul, should be directly contrary to the only design of the religion you profess, and do externally practice. Your profession and practice are nothing but self-contradiction. You are continually running counter to yourself; outwardly pursuing what you inwardly decline. Your real end (which can be no other than what you really desire, and set your heart upon) and your visible way are quite contrary. So that while you continue the course of religion, in which you are engaged, having taken down from before your eyes, the end which you should be aiming at, and which alone religion can aptly subserve; your religion has no design, or end at all (none at least which you would not be ashamed to profess and own.) Indeed this temper of heart I am now pleading against, an undesirousness, or indifference of spirit toward eternal glory, renders religion the vainest thing in the world. For whereas all the other actions of our lives have their stated proper ends; religion has in this case none at all; none to which it has any designation in its nature, or any aptness to subserve. This monstrous absurdity it infers (and how strange is it, that it should not be reflected on?) That, whereas, if you ask any man of common understanding what he does this or that action for, especially, if they be stated actions done by him in an ordinary course, he can readily tell you for such and such an end. But ask him why he continues any practice of religion; he cannot say (in this case) for what.

For can any man imagine what other end religion naturally serves for, but to bring men to blessedness? Which being no other thing than what has been here described, such as are found not to desire it really, and supremely, as their end, can have no real attainable end of their being religious at all. To drive on a continued course, and series of actions, in a visible pursuit of that which they desire not; and have no mind to, is such a piece of folly, so fond and vain a trifling; that, as I remember, Cicero reports, Cato to have said concerning the soothsayers of his time, he did wonder they could look in one another's faces, and not laugh (being conscious to each other's impostures, and the vanity of their profession) so one would as justly wonder, that the generality of carnal men (who may shrewdly guess at the temper of one another's minds) do not laugh at each other, that they are jointly engaged in such exercises of religion, to the design of which the common and agreed temper of their spirits do so little correspond. As if all were in very good earnest for Heaven, when each one knows for himself, and may (possibly with more truth than charity) suppose of the rest, that if they might always continue in their earthly stations, they had rather never come there. And therefore that they desire it not supremely, and so not as their end at all; consider it then, that your no-desire of this blessed state quite dispirits your religion, utterly ravishes away its soul, leaves it a dead, foolish, vain thing, renders it an idle impertinency, not a means to a valuable end. This desire is that life of religion, all duties and exercises of piety are without it, but empty formalities, solemn pieces of pageantry. Every service done to God, but the sacrifice of a fool, if not animated by the desire of final blessedness in him and be not part of our way there, a means designed to the attainment of it. Which nothing can be, that we are not put upon by the virtue of the desired end. Without this, religion is not itself. A continuance in well doing, is as it were the body of it; and therein, a seeking honor, glory, and immortality, the soul and spirit. The desire of a heavenly country, must run through the whole course of our earthly pilgrimage: it were otherwise a continued error, an uncertain wandering; no steady tending toward our end. So that you are a mere vagrant, if this desire does not direct your course toward your Father's house. And I think all this should make you even ashamed of yourself, if you cannot find this desire to have a settled residence and a ruling power in your soul.

2. Sense of praise should signify something too, as the Apostle, Whatever things are — pure, lovely, etc., if there be any virtue — any praise, think of these things. And has not the eternal glory those characters upon it of purity, and loveliness beyond all things? Is it not a laudable, and praise-worthy thing to have a mind and heart set upon that?

The blessed God puts a note of excellency upon this temper of spirit. But they desire a better country, that is, a Heavenly one, therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, etc. This renders them a people worthy of him, who has called them to his kingdom and glory; fit for him to own a relation to. Had they been of low, earthly spirits, he would have accounted it a shame to him, to have gone under the name and cognizance of their God. But inasmuch as they desire the Heavenly country, have learned to trample this terrestrial world, cannot be contained within this lower sphere; nor satisfy themselves in earthly things; they now discover a certain excellency of spirit, in respect of which God is not ashamed to own a relation to them before all the world to be called their God; to let men see what account he makes of such a spirit.

Indeed, this is the proper genuine spirit, and temper of a saint, which agrees to him as he is such. He is begotten to the eternal inheritance. A disposition (and therein a desire) to it, is in his very nature (the new nature he has received) implanted there, from his origin. He is born Spirit of Spirit, and by that birth, is not entitled only, but adopted, and suited also to that pure and spiritual state of blessedness. That grace, by the appearance of which men are made Christians, teaches, also instructs, to this very thing, to look for this blessed hope — the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ. That which you know consummates that blessedness. For when Christ, who is their life, shall appear, then shall they also appear with him in glory, by the participation of the divine nature their spirits escape and get up above this corrupt impure world. That new nature is a holy flame that carries their hearts upwards towards heaven.

Further, such desires appear hence to be of divine original, an infusion from the blessed God himself. That nature is from him immediately in which they are implanted. The Apostle speaking of his earnest panting desire to have mortality swallowed up of life presently adds: He that wrought us to the self-same thing is God.

They are obedient desires, the soul's present answer to the heavenly call, by which God calls it to his kingdom and glory. This glory is (as has been formerly noted) the very term of that calling. The God of all grace has called us into his eternal glory by Christ Jesus. The glorified state is the mark, the price of the high calling of God in Christ. It is the matter of the Apostle's thanksgiving to God, on the behalf of the Thessalonians, that they were called by his Gospel, to the obtaining of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. When the soul desires this glory, it obediently answers this call. This is a compliance and subjection of heart to it. How lovely and becoming a thing is this, when God touches the heart with a stamp and impress of glory, and it forthwith turns itself to that very point, and stands directly bent towards the state of glory, if not wayward or perverse, but herein yields itself to God, and complies with the divine pleasure.

Such desires have much in them of a childlike ingenuity. To desire the sight of a Father's face, when this is [reconstructed: the] intimate sense of the soul — 'Show me the Father and it suffices;' to desire the fullest conformity to his nature and will, to be perfect as that heavenly Father is perfect — what does better become a child?

They are generous desires, they aim at perfection, the highest that created nature is capable of, not contented to have had some glances of divine glory, some strokes and lines of his image, but aspiring to full-eyed visions, a perfect likeness.

They are victorious desires, they (as it were) ride in triumph over the world and every sublunary thing, they must be supposed to have conquered sensual inclinations to have got the mastery over earthly dispositions and affections. With what holy contempt and scorn of every earthly thing does that lofty soul quit this dirty world and ascend, that is powerfully carried by its own desire towards the blessed state? The desire of such a knowledge of Christ, as might transform into his likeness; and pass the soul through all degrees of conformity to him, till it attain the resurrection of the dead, and become like a risen glorified Jesus; such a desire I say, if it make all things seem as loss and dung in comparison (even a formal, spiritless religion itself) will it not render this world the most despicable dunghill of all the rest. Try such a soul if you can, tempt it down to enjoy a flattering kind world, or to please it when angry and unkind. When desires after this glory are once awakened, into an active lively vigor, when the fire is kindled, and the flame ascends and this refined Spirit is joyfully ascending therein; see if you can draw it back and make it believe this world a more regardable thing. Why should not all those considerations make you in love with this blessed frame of spirit, and restless till you find yourself incapable of being satisfied with anything but divine likeness,

6. That while we cannot as yet attain the mark and end of our desires, we yield not to a comfortless despondency in the way, but maintain in our hearts a lively joy, in the hope that hereafter we shall attain it.

We are not all this while persuading to the desire and pursuit of an unattainable good. Spiritual desires are also rational and do therefore involve hope with them; and that hope ought to infer and cherish joy. Hopeless desire is full of torment, and must needs banish joy from that breast which it has not the possession of. It is a disconsolate thing to desire what we must never expect to enjoy, and are utterly unlikely ever to compass. But these desires are part of the new creature, which is not of such a composition, as to have a principle of endless trouble, and disquiet in itself. The Father of mercies is not so little merciful to his own child; to lay it under a necessity from its very natural constitution, of being forever miserable by the desire of that which it can never have. It had been very unlike the workmanship of God, to make a creature to which it should be necessary to desire, and impossible to enjoy the same thing.

Not but as he has given holy souls (as to the present case) great incentives of desire, so does he afford them proportionate encouragements of hope also, and that hope intervening, can very well reconcile desire and joy and lodge them together in the same bosom. So that as it is a thing capable of no excuse, to hear of this blessedness, and not desire it, so it would be to desire, and not expect it, to expect it, and not rejoice in it, even while we are under that expectation. And it must be a very raised joy that shall answer to the expectation of so great things. If one should give a stranger to Christianity an account of the Christian hopes, and tell him what they expect to be and enjoy before long; he would sure promise himself to find so many angels dwelling in human flesh, and reckon, when he came among them, he should be as amidst heavenly choir: every one full of joy and praise. He would expect to find us living on earth, as the inhabitants of heaven, also many pieces of immortal glory lately dropped down from above, and shortly again returning there. He would look to find, every where, in the Christian world incarnate glory, sparkling through the overshadowing veil, and wonder how this earthly sphere should be able to contain so many great souls.

But when he draws nearer to us, and observes the course and carriage of our lives; when he sees us walk as other men, and considers the strange disagreement of our daily conversation, to our so great avowed hopes, and how little sense of joy, and pleasure we discover ourselves to conceive in them: would he not be ready to say, sure some or other (willing only to amuse the world with the noise of strange things) have composed a religion for these men, which they themselves understand nothing of. If they do adopt, and own it for theirs, they understand not their own pretences; they are taught to speak some big words, or to give a faint, or seeming assent to such as speak them in the names; but it is impossible they should be in good earnest, or believe themselves in what they say, and profess.

And what reply then should we be able to make? For who can think that any who acknowledge a God; and understand at all what that name imports, should value at so low a rate, as we (visibly) do; the eternal fruition of his glory, and a present sonship to him, the pledge of so great a hope.

He that is born heir to great honors and possessions, though he be upon great uncertainties, as to the enjoyment of them (for how many interventions may prevent him?) yet when he comes to understand his possibilities and expectancies; how big does he look and speak? What grandeur does he put on? His hopes form his spirit and deportment; but is it proportionally so with us? Do our hopes fill our hearts with joy, our mouths with praise, and clothe our faces with a cheerful aspect, and make a holy alacrity appear in all our conversations?

But let not the design of this discourse be mistaken. It is [reconstructed: not] a presumptuous confidence I would encourage, nor a vain ostentation, nor a disdainful overlooking of others when we fancy ourselves to excel. Such things hold no proportion with a Christian spirit. His is a modest, humble exaltation, a serious severe joy; suitable to his solid, stable hope. His spirit is not puffed up, and swollen with air, it is not big by an inflation, or a light and windy humor; but it is really filled with effectual pre-apprehensions of a weighty glory. His joy accordingly exerts itself with a steady lively vigor, equally removed from vain lightness, and stupidity from conceitedness, and insensibility of his blessed state. He forgets not that he is less than the least of God's mercies, but disowns not his title to the greatest of them. He abases himself to the dust, in the sense of his own vileness; but in the admiration of divine grace, he rises as high as Heaven. In his humiliation he affects to equal himself with worms, in his joy and praise with angels. He is never unwilling to diminish himself, but afraid of detracting anything from the love of God, or the issues of that love.

But most of all he magnifies (as he has cause) this its last and most perfect issue. And by how much he apprehends his own unworthiness, he is the more rapt up into a wondering joy; that such blessedness should be his designed portion.

But now how little do we find in ourselves of this blessed frame of spirit? How remote are we from it? Let us but inquire a little into our own souls. Are there not too apparent symptoms with us of the little joy we take in the forethoughts of future blessedness? For,

First, how few thoughts have we of it? What any delight in, they remember often. It is said of the same person, that his delight is in the Law of the Lord, and that in his Law he does meditate day and night. And when the Psalmist professes his own delight in God's statutes, he adds, I will not forget your Word. Should we not be as unlikely to forget Heaven, if our delight were there? But do not days pass with us, wherein we can allow ourselves no leisure to mind the eternal glory? When yet vanities throng in upon us, without any obstruction, or check?

And (what is consequent hereupon) how seldom is this blessed state the subject of our discourse? How often do Christians meet, and not a word of Heaven? O heavy carnal hearts! Our home and eternal blessedness, in this, appears to be forgotten among us. How often may a person converse with us before he understand our relation to the heavenly country? If exiles meet in a foreign land, what pleasant discourse have they of home? They suffer not one another to forget it. Such was their remembrance of Zion, who sat together bemoaning themselves by the Rivers of Babylon, making mention of it (as the phrase is often used.) And it seems to me (even as to this remembrance) it should be our common resolution too, if we forget you, O Jerusalem; if we forget to make mention of you, O you city of the living God; let our right hand forget her cunning, our tongue shall sooner cleave to the roof of our mouth; and so it would be, did we prefer that Heavenly Jerusalem above our chief joy.

Again, how little does it weigh with us? It serves not to out-weigh the smallest trouble, if we have not our eternal desire in every thing gratified, if any thing fall out cross to our inclinations, this glory goes for nothing with us. Our discontents swallow up our hopes, and joys, and heaven is reckoned as a thing of naught. If when outward troubles afflict, or threaten us, we could have the certain prospect of better days; that would sensibly revive, and please us. Indeed, can we not please ourselves with very uncertain groundless hopes of this kind, without promise or valuable reason? But to be told of a recompense, at the resurrection of the just, of a day when we shall see the face of God, and be satisfied, with his likeness; this is insipid and without favor to us; and affords us but cold comfort. The uncertain things of time signify more with us, than the certain things of eternity. Can we think it is all this while well with us? Can we think this a tolerable evil, or suffer, with patience, such a distemper of spirit? It seems to me it should make us ever weary of ourselves, and solicitous for an effectual speedy redress.

The redress must be more in our own doing (striving with our souls and with God for them) than in what any man can say. Most of the considerations under the foregoing rule are with little variation applicable to this present purpose. I shall here annex only some few subordinate directions; which may lead us into this blessed state of life, and give us some joyful foretastes of the future blessedness, according as our spirits shall comply with them. But expect not to be cured by prescriptions without using them: or that heavenly joy can be the creature of mortal unregarded breath; we can only prescribe means, and methods through which God may be pleased to descend, and in which you are diligently to insist and wait. And because I cannot well suppose the ignorant where much is said to this purpose; I shall therefore say little.

1. Possess your soul with the apprehension that you are not at liberty in this matter; but that there is a certain spiritual delectation, which is incumbent on you as indispensable duty. Some whose more morose tempers do more estrange them from delights, think themselves more especially concerned, to banish every thing of that kind from their religion and fancy it only to consist in sour and rigorous severities. Others seem to think it arbitrary and indifferent; or that, if they live in a continual sadness and dejection of spirit, it is only their infelicity not their fault, and apprehend not the obligation that is upon them, by a divine law otherwise to manage and order their spirits. But what then? Are such words thought to be spoken at random: 'Her ways are ways of pleasantness.' 'The Lord is the portion of my inheritance.' 'The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places (or in the midst of pleasantnesses, as the expression has been noted to signify).' Do such precepts carry no sense with them: 'Delight yourself in the Lord — Rejoice in the Lord always and again I say rejoice,' with many more? Do all passages of this kind in Scripture stand for ciphers or were they put in them by chance? Is there such a thing as an aptitude to delectation in our natures, and does the sanctification thereof entitle the joy of saints to a place among the fruits of the Spirit, and yet is the exercise of it to have no place in their hearts and practice? Do not think you are permitted so to extinguish or frustrate so considerable a principle of the divine life. Know that the due exercise of it, is a part of the order and discipline of God's family. That it is a constitution of the divine goodness and wisdom both to cherish his own, and invite in strangers to him, indeed that is the scope and aim of the whole Gospel-revelation, that the word of life was purposely written to draw souls into fellowship with the Father and the Son that their joy might be full. That the ministers of this Gospel are therefore styled the helpers of their joy. Therefore though here it be not required nor allowed, that you should indulge a vain trifling levity or a sensual joy, or that you should rejoice you know not why (imitating the laughter of a fool) or inopportunely, why your state admits it not, or when the Lord calls to mourning; yet settle however this persuasion in your hearts, that the serious, rational, regular, seasonable exercise of delight and joy is matter of duty, to be charged upon conscience, from the authority of God; and is an integral part in the religion of Christians. And then sure you will not think any object more proper and suitable for it to be exercised upon, than the foreseen state of blessedness, which is, in itself, a fullness of joy; the joy of our Lord, and is in the pre-apprehensions of it a more considerable matter of joy than our present state affords us besides; and without relation to which we have no matter of rational joy at all.

2. Keep faith in exercise; both in that act of it, which persuades the soul of the truth of the Gospel-revelation, and that act of it which unites it to God, through the mediator. The Apostle prays on the behalf of his Roman Christians that they might be filled with joy and peace in believing; and we are told how effectually (as to this) it supplied the place of sight. Such as had not seen Christ (which was the privilege of many other Christians of that time) yet believing did rejoice, with joy unspeakable and glorious.

Faith directly tends, in that double office before mentioned, to excite and foment this joy. As it assents to the truth of the Gospel-revelation it realizes the object, is the substance and evidence of the invisible glory. As it unites the soul with God through Christ in a fiducial and obediential closure, it ascertains our interest therein, and is our actual acceptance of our blessedness itself; for when we take God through Christ to be our God, what is it? But to accept him as our eternal and satisfying portion, whom we are after fully to enjoy in the vision and participation of his glorious excellencies, and infinite fullness. Which two acts of faith we have mentioned together in one text — they were persuaded of the promises and embraced them; the former respecting the truth of the promise, the latter the goodness of the thing promised. And hereupon they confessed themselves (as it follows) pilgrims and strangers on earth which abdication of the earth, as none of their country could not be, but that, through their faith, they had a joyous pre-apprehension of that better state. That confession did manifestly involve in it a lively joy, springing from the sight and embrace of that more taking distant good; which the promise presented them with; from where they could not think it enough to be such to themselves in their own thoughts, and the temper of their minds; but they cannot forbear (so overcoming were their sights and tastes) to give it out, to speak, and look, and live, as those that were carried up in their spirits above this earth; and who did even disdain to own themselves in any other relation to it, than that of foreigners and strangers.

Set your faith to work, soul, and keep it at work, and you will find this no riddle; it will be so with you too, we have much talk of faith among us, and have the name often in our mouths, but how few are the real lively believers? Is it to be thought that such blessedness should not more affect our hearts, in fact would it not ravish away our very souls, did we thoroughly believe it? And were it our present daily work to renew the bonds of a vital union with the blessed God, in whom we expect to be blessed forever, could that be without previous gusts of pleasure? It is not talking of faith but living by it, that will give us the experience of heavenly delights and joys.

3. Take heed of going, in your practice, against your light, of persisting in a course of known, or suspected sin, that states you in a direct hostility and rebellion against heaven; and can never suffer you to think of eternity and the other world with comfort, will fill your mind with frightful apprehensions of God, render the sight of his face, the most terrible thing to your thoughts, you can imagine; and satisfaction with his likeness the most impossible thing. Let a good understanding and correspondence be continued between God and you (which is not possible, if you disobey the dictates of your conscience and take the liberty to do what you judge God has forbidden you) that this may be your rejoicing the testimony of a good conscience; that in simplicity, and godly sincerity, not according to fleshly wisdom, but the grace of God you have had your conversation. Take God for a witness of your ways and walking; approve yourself to his jealous eye, study to carry yourself acceptably towards him; and to all well pleasing. Let that be your ambition to stand right in his thoughts to appear gracious in his eyes. Hold fast your integrity, that your heart may not reproach you as long as you live, if iniquity be in your hand put it away, then shall you lift up your face without spot and without fear. Be a faithful subject of that kingdom of God (and here conscience rules under him) which consists first in righteousness, and then in peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. You will so daily behold the face of God in righteousness, and with pleasure, but will most of all please yourself to think of your final appearance before him, and the blessedness that shall ensue.

4. Watch and arm yourself against the too forcible strokes and impressions of sensible objects. Let not the favor of such low vile things corrupt the palate of your soul. A sensual earthly mind, and heart, cannot taste heavenly delights. They that are after the flesh do savor the things of the flesh, they that are after the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. Labor to be thoroughly mortified towards this world, and the present state of things. Look upon this scheme and pageant as passing away, keep natural appetites under restraint (the world and the lusts of it pass away together) sensuality is an impure thing. Heavenly refined joy cannot live amidst so much filth. Indeed, and if you give your flesh liberty too far in things that are (in specie;) lawful; it will soon get advantage to domineer, and keep your soul in a depressing servitude. Abridge it then, and cut it short; that your mind may be enlarged, and at liberty; may not be thronged, and prepossessed with carnal imaginations and affections. Let your soul (if you will take this instruction from a heathen) look with a constant erect mind into the undefiled light, neither darkened, nor borne down towards the earth; but stopping its ears, and turning its eyes, and all other senses back upon itself; and quite abolishing out of itself, all earthly sighs, and groans, and pleasures, and glories, and honors, and disgrace; and having forsaken all these; choose for the guides of its way, true reason, and strong love, the one of which will show it the way, the other make it easy, and pleasant.

5. Having voided your mind of what is earthly, and carnal, apply and turn it to this blessed theme. The most excellent and the vilest objects are alike to you, while you mind them not. Your thoughts possibly bring you in nothing but vexation and trouble, which would bring in as soon joy, and pleasure, did you turn them to proper objects. A thought of the heavenly glory is as soon thought as of an earthly cross. We complain the world troubles us, then what do we there? Why get we not up in our spirits into the quieter region? What trouble would the thoughts of future glory be to us? How are the thoughts and wits set on work for this flesh? But we would have our souls flourish, as the lilies, without anything of their own care. Indeed, we make them toil for torture, and not for joy, revolve an affliction a thousand times, before, and after it comes; and have never done with it, when eternal blessedness gains not a thought.

6. Plead earnestly with God for his Spirit. This is joy in the Holy Ghost; or of which he is the author. Many Christians (as they must be called) are such strangers to this work of imploring, and calling in the blessed Spirit, as if they were capable of adopting these words, We have not so much as heard whether there be a Holy Ghost. That name is with them as an empty sound. How hardly are we convinced of our necessary dependence, on that free Spirit, as to all our truly spiritual operations? This Spirit is the very earnest of our inheritance. The foretastes, and first fruits we have here of the future blessedness; the joy and pleasure, the complacential relishes, we have of it beforehand, are by the gracious vouchsafement and work of this blessed Spirit. The things that eye has not seen, nor ear heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man, are revealed by this Spirit. Therefore does the Apostle direct his prayer on the behalf of the Ephesians, to the Father of this glory, that he would give them this Spirit of wisdom and revelation — to enlighten the eyes of their understanding, that they might know the hope of his calling, and the riches of the glory of his inheritance in (or among) the saints. And its revelation is such as begets an impression; in respect of which it is said also to seal up to the day of redemption. Therefore pray earnestly for this Spirit; not in idle dreaming words of course, but as being really apprehensive of the necessity of prevailing. And give not over till you find that sacred fire diffusing itself through your mind and heart, to enlighten the one, and refine the other, and so prepossess both, of this glory; that your soul may be all turned into joy and praise. And then let me add here (without the formality of a distinct head.) That it concerns you to take heed of quenching that Spirit, by either resisting, or neglecting its holy dictates, or as the same precept is otherwise given of grieving the Spirit; he is, by name and office, the Comforter. The primitive Christians, it is said, walked in the fear of God, and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost. Is it equal dealing to grieve him, whose business it is to comfort you? or can you expect joy, where you cause grief? Walk in the Spirit, adore its power. Let your soul do it homage within you. Wait for its holy influences, and yield yourself to its ducture and guidance; so will you go as the redeemed of the Lord, with everlasting joy upon your head, till you enter that presence, where is fullness of joy, and pleasures for evermore.

Nor do you think it improper, or strange, that you should be called upon to rejoice in what you do not yet possess. Your hope is instead of fruition; it is an anticipated enjoyment. We are commanded to rejoice in hope, and saints have professed to do so; to rejoice even in the hope, the hope of the glory of God. Nor is it unreasonable that should be your present highest joy. For though yet it be a distinct thing, and indistinctly revealed, the excellency of the object makes compensation for both, with an abundant surplusage. As any one would much more rejoice to be assured by a great person, of ample possessions, he would make him his heir to, (though he knew not distinctly what they should be) than to see a shilling, already his own, with his own eyes.