The Life of God in the Soul of Man

The LIFE of GOD IN The SOUL of MAN.

My Dear Friend,

This designation does give you a title to all the endeavors whereby I can serve your interests; and your pious inclinations do so happily conspire with my duty, that I shall not need to step out of my road to gratify you; but I may at once perform an office of friendship, and discharge an exercise of my function, since the advancing of virtue and holiness (which I hope you make your greatest study) is the peculiar business of my employment: This therefore is the most proper instance wherein I can vent my affection, and express my gratitude towards you, and I shall not any longer delay the performance of what promise I made you to this purpose: for though I know you are provided with better helps of this nature, than any I can offer you; nor are you like to meet with any thing here which you knew not before, yet I am hopeful, that what cometh from one whom you are pleased to honor with your friendship, and which is more particularly designed for your use, will be kindly accepted by you, and God's Providence perhaps may so direct my thoughts, that something or other may prove useful to you. Nor shall I doubt your pardon, if for moulding my discourse into the better frame, I lay a low foundation, beginning with the nature, and properties of religion, and all along give such way to my thoughts in the prosecution of the subject, as may bring me to say many things which were not necessary, did I only consider to whom I am writing.

I cannot speak of religion, but I must regrate that among so many pretenders to it, so few understand what it means; some placing it in the understanding, in orthodox notions and opinions, and all the account they can give of their religion, is that they are of this or the other persuasion, and have joined themselves to one of those many sects whereinto Christendom is most unhappily divided: Others place it in the outward man, in a constant course of external duties, and a model of performances, if they live peaceably with their neighbors, keep a temperate diet, observe the returns of worship, frequenting the church, or their closet, and sometimes extend their hands to the relief of the poor, they think they have sufficiently acquitted themselves: Others again put all religion in the affections, in rapturous heats, and ecstatic devotion, and all they aim at, is to pray with passion, and think of heaven with pleasure, and to be affected with those kind, and melting expressions wherewith they court their Savior, till they persuade themselves that they are mightily in love with him, and from there assume a great confidence of their salvation, which they esteem the chief of Christian graces. Thus are these things which have any resemblance of piety, and at the best are but means for obtaining it, or particular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for the whole of religion: no, sometimes wickedness and vice pretends to that name; I speak not now of those gross impieties wherewith the heathens were wont to worship their gods; there are but too many Christians who would consecrate their vices, and hallow their corrupt affections, whose rugged humor, and sullen pride must pass for Christian severity, whose fierce wrath, and bitter rage against their enemies must be called holy zeal, whose petulancy toward their superiors, or rebellion against their governors must have the name of Christian courage and resolution.

But certainly religion is quite another thing, and they who are acquainted with it, will entertain far different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows and false imitations of it. They know by experience that true religion is an union of the soul with God, a real participation of the divine nature, the very image of God drawn upon the soul, or in the Apostle's phrase, it is Christ formed within us. Briefly, I know not how the nature of religion can be more fully expressed than by calling it a divine life; and under these terms I shall discourse of it, shewing first how it is called a life, and then how it is termed divine.

I choose to express it by the name of life, first because of its permanency and stability: religion is not a sudden start, or passion of the mind, not though it should rise to the height of a rapture, and seem to transport a man to extraordinary performances. There are few but have convictions of the necessity of doing something for the salvation of their souls, which may push them forward some steps, with a great deal of seeming haste; but anon they flag and give over; they were in hot mood, but now they are cooled; they did shoot forth fresh and high, but are quickly withered, because they had no root in themselves. These sudden fits may be compared to the violent and convulsive motions of bodies newly beheaded, caused by the agitations of the animal spirits, after the soul is departed, which however violent and impetuous, can be of no long continuance; whereas the motions of holy souls are constant and regular, proceeding from a permanent, and lively principle. It is true, this divine life continues not always in that same strength and vigor, but many times suffers sad decays, and holy men find greater difficulty in resisting temptations, and less alacrity in the performance of their duties; yet it is not quite extinguished, nor are they abandoned to the power of these corrupt affections, which sway and over-rule the rest of the world.

Again, religion may be designed by the name of life, because it is an inward, free, and self-moving principle, and those who have made progress in it, are not acted only by external motives, driven merely by threatenings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully inclined to that which is good, and delight in the performance of it. The love which a pious man carries to God, and goodness, is not so much by virtue of a command enjoining him so to do, as by a new nature instructing and prompting him to it; nor does he pay his devotions, as an unavoidable tribute only to appease the divine justice, or quiet his clamorous conscience; but those religious exercises are the proper emanations of the divine life, the natural employments of the new born soul. He prays and gives thanks, and repents, not only because these things are commanded, but rather because he is sensible of his wants, and of the divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sinful life; his charity is not forced, nor his alms extorted from him, his love makes him willing to give; and though there were no outward obligation, his heart would devise liberal things. Injustice or intemperance, and all other vices, are as contrary to his temper, and constitution, as the basest actions are to the most generous spirit, and impudence and scurrility to those who are naturally modest: so that I may well say with Saint John, Whoever is born of God does not commit sin: for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin because he is born of God. Though holy and religious persons do much eye the law of God, and have a great regard to it, yet is it not so much the sanction of the law, as its reasonableness, and purity and goodness which does prevail with them; they account it excellent and desirable in its self, and that in keeping of it there is great reward: and that divine love wherewith they are acted, makes them become a law to themselves.

Quis legem det amantibus? Major est amor lex ipse sibi. For who can give a law to those that love? Love's a more powerful law which does such persons move.

In a word, what our blessed Savior said of himself, is in some measure applicable to his followers, that it's their meat and drink to do their Father's will: and as the natural appetite is carried out toward food, though we should not reflect on the necessity of it for the preservation of our lives; so are they carried with a natural and unforced propension toward that which is good and commendable. It is true, external motives are many times of great use to excite and stir up this inward principle, especially in its infancy and weakness, when it's often so languid, that the man himself can scarce discern it, hardly being able to move one step forward, but when he is pushed by his hopes, or his fears, by the pressure of an affliction, or the sense of a mercy, by the authority of the law, or the persuasion of others. Now if such a person be conscientious and uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groaning under the sense of his dulness, and is desirous to perform his duties with more spirit, and vigor: these are the first motions of the divine life, which though it be faint, and weak, will surely be cherished by the influences of Heaven, and grow to greater maturity. But he who is utterly destitute of this inward principle, and does not aspire to it, but contents himself with those performances whereunto he is prompted by education or custom, by the fear of Hell, or carnal notions of Heaven, can no more be accounted a religious person, than a puppet can be called a man. This forced and artificial religion is commonly heavy and languid, like the motion of a weight forced upward, it is cold and spiritless, like the uneasy compliance of a wife married against her will, who carries dutifully toward the husband whom she does not love, out of some sense of virtue or honor. Hence also this religion is scant and niggardly, especially in those duties which do greatest violence to men's carnal inclinations, and those slavish spirits will be sure to do no more, than is absolutely required, 'tis a law that compels them, and they will be loath to go beyond what it stints them to, no, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as may leave themselves the greatest liberty; whereas the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from such peevish and narrow reckoning; and he who has given himself entirely to God will never think he does too much for him.

By this time I hope it does appear, that religion is with a great deal of reason termed a life or vital principle, and that it's very necessary to distinguish between it, and that obedience which is constrained, and depends on external causes. I come next to give an account why I designed it by the name of divine life, and so it may be called, not only in regard of its fountain and original, having God for its Author, and being wrought in the souls of men by the power of his Holy Spirit; but also in regard of its nature, religion being a resemblance of the divine perfections, the image of the Almighty shining in the soul of man. No, it is a real participation of his nature, it is a beam of the Eternal Light, a drop of that infinite ocean of goodness, and they who are endued with it, may be said to have God dwelling in their souls, and Christ formed within them.

Before I descend to a more particular consideration of that Divine Life wherein true Religion does consist, it will perhaps be fit to speak a little of that natural or animal Life which prevails in those who are strangers to the other: and by this I understand nothing else, but our inclination and propension toward those things which are pleasing and acceptable to Nature: or self-Love issuing forth and spreading itself into as many branches as men have several appetites and inclinations. The root and foundation of the animal life I reckon to be Sense taking it largely, as it is opposed to Faith, and importeth our perception and resentment of things, that are either grateful or troublesome to us. Now those animal affections considered in themselves, and as they are implanted in us by nature, are not vitious or blameable; yes, they are instances of the wisdom of the Creator furnishing his creatures with such appetites as tend to the preservation and welfare of their lives: these are instead of a Law to the brute beasts, whereby they are directed towards the ends for which they were made; but Man being made for higher purposes, and to be guided by more excellent laws, becomes guilty and criminal when he is so far transported by the inclinations of this lower life, as to violate his duty, or neglect the higher and more noble designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not wholly to be extirpated and destroyed, but only to be moderated and over-ruled by a superior and more excellent principle. In a word, the difference between a religious and wicked man, is, that in the one the Divine life bears sway, in the other the animal does prevail.

But it is strange to observe to what different courses this natural principle will sometimes carry those who are wholly guided by it, according to the divers circumstances that concur with it to determine them: and the not considering this does frequently occasion very dangerous mistakes, making men think well of themselves by reason of that seeming difference which is between them and others, whereas perhaps their actions do all the while flow from one and the same original. If we consider the natural temper, and constitution of men's souls, we shall find some to be airy, frolic and light, which makes their behavior extravagant and ridiculous; whereas others are naturally serious and severe, and their whole carriage composed into such gravity as gains them a great deal of reverence and esteem: some are of a humorous, rugged, and morose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves, nor endure that others should be so; but all are not born under such sour and unhappy stars, for some persons have a certain sweetness and benignity rooted in their natures, and they find the greatest pleasure in the endearments of society, and the mutual complacency of friends, and covet nothing more than to have every body obliged to them. And it is well that Nature has provided this complexional tenderness to supply the defect of true charity in the world, and to incline men to do something for one another's welfare. Again, in regard of education some have never been taught to follow any other rules, than those of pleasure or advantage; but others are so inured to observe the strictest rules of decency and honor, and some instances of virtue, that they are hardly capable of doing any thing which they have been accustomed to look upon as base and unworthy.

In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment of mere natural men that does arise from the strength or weakness of their wit or judgment, and from their care or negligence in using them: intemperance, and lust: injustice and oppression, and all those other impieties which abound in the world, and render it so miserable, are the issues of self-love, the effects of the animal life, when it is neither overpowered by Religion, nor governed by natural reason; but if it once take hold of reason, and get judgment and wit to be of its party, it will many times disdain the grosser sort of vices, and spring up to fair imitations of virtue and goodness. If a man have but so much reason as to consider the prejudice which intemperance and inordinate lust does bring to his health, his fortune and his reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain him: and one may observe the rules of moral justice in dealing with others, as the best way to secure his own interest, and maintain his credit in the world. But this is not all, this natural principle by the help of reason may take a higher flight, and come nigher the instances of piety and Religion: it may incline a man to the diligent study of divine truths: for why should not these as well as other speculations be pleasant and grateful to curious and inquisitive humors: it may make men zealous in maintaining and propagating such opinions as they have espoused, and be very desirous that others should submit to their judgment, and approve the choice of Religion, which themselves have made: it may make them delight to hear and compose excellent discourses about the matters of Religion; for eloquence is very pleasant whatever be the subject. Yes, some it may dispose to no small height of sensible devotion: the glorious things that are spoken of Heaven may make even a carnal heart in love with it: the metaphors and similitudes made use of in Scripture of crowns and scepters, and rivers of pleasure, &c. will easily affect a man's fancy, and make him wish to be there, though he neither understand nor desire those spiritual pleasures which are described and shadowed forth by these. And when such a person comes to believe that Christ has purchased these glorious things for him, he may feel a kind of tenderness and affection towards so great a Benefactor, and imagine that he is mightily enamored of him, and yet all the while continue a stranger to the holy temper and spirit of the Blessed Jesus, and so instead of a Deity he may embrace a cloud. And what hand the natural constitution may have in the rapturous devotions of some melancholy persons, has been excellently discovered of late by several learned and judicious pens.

To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a man's life pleasant, or himself eminent and conspicuous in the world, but this natural principle assisted by wit and reason may prompt him to it: and though I do not condemn these things in themselves, yet it concerns us nearly to know and consider their nature, both that we may keep within due bounds, and also that we may learn never to value ourselves, on the account of such attainments, nor lay the stress of Religion upon our natural appetites or performances.

It is now time to return to the consideration of that Divine life whereof I was discoursing before, that life which is hid with Christ in God, and therefore has no glorious shew or appearance in the world, and to the natural spirit will seem a mean and insipid notion. As the animal life consisteth in that narrow and confined love which is terminated on a man's self, and in his propension towards those things that are pleasing to nature; so the Divine life stands in an universal and unbounded affection, and in the mastery over our natural inclinations, that they may never be able to betray us to those things which we know to be blamable. The root of the divine life is faith, the chief branches are love to God, charity to man, purity, and humility: for (as an excellent person has well observed) however these names be common and vulgar, and make no extraordinary sound, yet do they carry such a mighty sense, that the tongue of man or angel can pronounce nothing more weighty or excellent. Faith has the same place in the Divine life which sense has in the natural, being indeed nothing else, but a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion of spiritual things: it extends itself to all Divine truths; but in our lapsed estate, it has a peculiar relation to the declarations of God's mercy and reconcileableness to sinners through a Mediator, and therefore receiving its denomination from that principal object is ordinarily termed, faith in Jesus Christ.

The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense of the Divine perfections, which makes the soul resign and sacrifice itself wholly to him, desiring above all things to please him, and delighting in nothing so much as in fellowship and communion with him, and being ready to do or suffer any thing for his sake, or at his pleasure: though this affection may have its first rise from the favours and mercies of God toward our selves, yet does it in its growth and progress transcend such particular considerations, and ground itself on his infinite goodness manifested in all the works of creation and Providence. A soul thus possessed with Divine love, must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in a sincere and unbounded affection because of the relation they carry to God being his creatures, and having something of his image stamped upon them: and this is that charity I named as the second branch of religion, and under which all the parts of justice, all the duties we owe to our neighbor are eminently comprehended: for he who does truly love all the world will be nearly concerned in the interests of every one, and so far from wronging or injuring any person, that he will resent any evil that befalls to others, as if it happened to himself.

By purity, I understand a due abstractedness from the body, and mastery over the inferior appetites: or such a temper and disposition of mind, as makes a man despise & abstain from all pleasures and delights of sense or fancy which are sinful in themselves, or tend to extinguish or lessen our relish of more divine and intellectual pleasures, which does also infer a resoluteness to undergo all those hardships he may meet with in the performance of his duty: so that not only chastity and temperance, but also Christian courage and magnanimity may come under this head.

Humility imports a deep sense of our own meanness, with a hearty and affectionate acknowledgment of our owing all that we are to the Divine bounty, which is always accompanied with a profound submission to the will of God, and great deadness toward the glory of the world, and applause of men.

These are the highest perfections that either men or angels are capable of, the very foundation of heaven laid in the soul, and he who has attained them needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God's decrees, or search the volumes of heaven to know what's determined about his everlasting condition, but he may find a copy of God's thoughts concerning him written in his own breast. His love to God may give him assurance of God's favor to him, and those beginnings of happiness which he feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, and compliance with his will, is a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity. And it is not without reason that one said, I had rather see the real impressions of a Godlike nature upon my own soul, then have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me that my name were enrolled in the Book of Life.

When we have said all that we can, the secret mysteries of a new nature, and Divine life can never be sufficiently expressed, language and words cannot reach them; nor can they be truly understood but by those souls that are enkindled within, and awakened to the sense and relish of spiritual things. There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty gives this understanding. The power and life of religion may be better expressed in actions than in words, because actions are more lively things, and do better represent the inward principle from where they proceed, and therefore we may take the best measure of those gracious endowments, from the deportment of those in whom they reside, especially as they are perfectly exemplified in the holy life of our blessed Savior, a main part of whose business in this world was to teach by his practice what he did require of others, and to make his own conversation an exact resemblance of those unparalleled rules which he prescribed. So that if ever true goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was then when his presence did beautify and illustrate this lower world.

That sincere and devout affection wherewith his blessed soul did constantly burn toward his Heavenly Father, did express itself in an entire resignation to his will, it was this was his very meat to do the will, and finish the work of him that sent him; this was the exercise of his childhood, and the constant employment of his riper age; he spared no travail or pains while he was about his Father's business, but took such infinite content and satisfaction in the performance of it, that when being faint and weary with his journey he rested him on Jacob's Well, and entreated a drink of the Samaritan woman, the success of his conference with her, and the accession that was made to the Kingdom of God, filled his mind with such delight, as seemed to have redounded to his very body, refreshing his spirits, and making him forget the thirst whereof he complained before, and refuse the meat which he had sent the Disciples to buy. Nor was he less patient and submissive in suffering the will of God, than diligent in doing of it: he endured the sharpest afflictions, and extremest miseries that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without a repining thought, or discontented word: for though he was far from a stupid insensibility, or a phantastic or Stoical obstinacy, and had as quick a sense of pain as other men, and the deepest apprehension of what he was to suffer in his soul (as his bloody sweat, and the sore amazement and sorrow which he professed do abundantly declare) yet did he entirely submit to that severe dispensation of Providence, and willingly acquiesced in it.

And he prayed to God, that if it were possible (or as one of the Evangelists has, if he were willing) that cup might be removed; yet he gently added, nevertheless not my will but yours be done. Of what strange importance are the expressions (John 12:27), where he first acknowledges the anguish of his spirit (Now is my soul troubled) which would seem to produce a kind of demurral, (And what shall I say,) and then he goes to deprecate his sufferings, (Father, save me from this hour;) which he had no sooner uttered, but he does, as it were, on second thoughts recall it in these words, But for this cause came I into the world; and concludes, Father glorify your Name. Now we must not look on this as any levity, or blameable weakness in the Blessed Jesus, he knew all along what he was to suffer, and did most resolutely undergo it; but it shows us the unconceivable weight and pressure that he was to bear, which being so afflicting and contrary to nature, he could not think of without terror; yet considering the will of God, and the glory which was to redound to him from there, he was not only content but desirous to suffer it.

Another instance of his love to God, was his delight in conversing with him by prayer, which made him frequently retire himself from the world, and with the greatest devotion and pleasure spend whole nights in that heavenly exercise, though he had no sins to confess, and but few secular interests to pray for; which alas! are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to our devotions. Yes, we may say his whole life was a kind of prayer, a constant course of communion with God: if the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was the fire still kept alive: nor was ever the Blessed Jesus surprised with that dulness or tepidity of spirit which we must many times wrestle with, before we can be fit for the exercise of devotion.

In the second place I should speak of his love and charity toward men; but he who would express it, must transcribe the history of the Gospel, and comment upon it, for scarce any thing is recorded to have been done or spoken by him which was not designed for the good and advantage of some one or other; all his miraculous works were instances of his goodness as well as his power, and they benefited those on whom they were wrought, as well as they amazed the beholders. His charity was not confined to his kindred, or relations; nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endearments of that peculiar friendship which he carried toward the beloved Disciple, but every one was his friend who obeyed his holy commands (John 15:4), and whoever did the will of his Father, the same was to him as his brother, and sister and mother.

Never was any unwelcome to him who came with an honest intention, nor did he deny any request which tended to the good of those that asked it. So what was spoken of that Roman Emperor, whom for his goodness they called the Darling of Mankind, was really performed by him, that never any departed from him with a heavy countenance, except that rich youth (Mark 10), who was sorry to hear that the Kingdom of Heaven stood at so high a rate, and that he could not save his soul and his money too; and certainly it troubled our Savior to see that when a price was in his hand to get wisdom, yet he had no heart to it; the ingenuity that appeared in his first address, had already procured some kindness for him; for it is said, And Jesus beholding him loved him: But must he for his sake cut out a new way to Heaven, and alter the nature of things which make it impossible that a covetous man should be happy?

And what shall I speak of his meekness, who could encounter the monstrous ingratitude and dissimulation of that miscreant who betrayed him, in no harsher terms than these, Judas betrayest you the Son of Man with a Kiss? What further evidence could we desire of his fervent and unbounded charity, than that he willingly laid down his life even for his most bitter enemies, and mingling his prayers with his blood, besought the Father that his death might not be laid to their charge, but might become the means of eternal life to those very persons who procured it?

The third branch of the divine life is purity, which, as I said, consists in a neglect of worldly enjoyments and accommodations, and a resolute enduring of all such troubles as we meet with in the doing of our duty. Now surely if ever any person was wholly dead to all the pleasures of the natural life, it was the Blessed Jesus, who seldom tasted them when they came in his way; but never stept out of his road to seek them. Though he allowed others the comforts of wedlock, and honoured marriage with his presence, yet he chose the severity of a virgin life, and never knew the nuptial bed. And though at the same time he supplyed the want of wine with a miracle, yet he would not work one for the relief of his own hunger in the wilderness. So gracious and divine was the temper of his soul in allowing to others such lawful gratifications as himself thought good to abstain from, and supplying not only their more extream and pressing necessities, but also their smaller and less considerable wants. We many times hear of our Savior's sighs, and groans, and tears; but never that he laught, and but once that he rejoyced in spirit; so that through his whole life he did exactly answer that character given of him by the prophet of old, that he was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with griefs. Nor were the troubles and disaccommodations of his life rather his fate than choice, for never did there any appear on the stage of the world with greater advantages to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. He who could convene such a prodigious number of fishes into his disciples' net, and at another time received that tribute from a fish which he was to pay to the temple, might easily have made himself the richest person in the world. Yes, without any money he could have maintained an army powerful enough to have justled Caesar out of his throne, having oftner than once fed seven thousand with a few loaves and small fishes. But to shew how small esteem he had of all the enjoyments in the world, he choosed to live in so poor and mean a condition, that though the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had nests, yet he who was Lord and Heir of all things, had not whereon to lay his head. He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor affect the acquaintance and converse of great ones, but being reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fisher-men, and such other poor people for his companions, and lived at such a rate as suited with the meanness of that quality.

And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his humility, the last branch of the divine life, wherein he was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might learn of him to be meek and lowly in heart. I shall not now speak of that infinite condescention of the Eternal Son of God, in taking our nature upon him; but only reflect on our Savior's lowly and humble deportment while he was in the world. He had none of those sins and imperfections which may justly humble the best of men; but he was so intirely swallowed up with a deep sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared as nothing in his own eyes, I mean in so far as he was a creature. He considered those eminent perfections which shined in his blessed soul as not his own but the gifts of God; and therefore assumed nothing to himself for them, but with the profoundest humility renounced all pretences to them. Hence did he refuse that ordinary compellation of Good Master, when address'd to his humane nature by one who it seems was ignorant of his divinity: "Why callest you me Good (says he) there is none good, but God only." As if he had said, the goodness of any creature (and such only you takest me to be) is not worthy to be named or taken notice of, 'tis God alone who is originally and essentially good. He never made use of his miraculous power for vanity or ostentation; he would not gratifie the curiosity of the Jews with a sign from heaven, some prodigious appearance in the air. Nor would he follow the advice of his countrymen and kindred, who would have had all his great works performed in the eyes of the world for gaining him the greater fame; but when his charity had prompted him to the relief of the miserable, his humility made him many times enjoyn the concealment of the miracle. And when the glory of God, and the design for which he came to the world, required the publication of them, he ascribed the honor of all to his Father, telling them, that of himself he was able to do nothing.

I cannot insist on all the instances of humility in his deportment towards men: his withdrawing himself when they would have made him a king, his subjection not only to his Blessed Mother, but to her husband during his younger years, and his submission to all the indignities and affronts, which his rude and malitious enemies did put upon him. The history of his holy life recorded by those who conversed with him, is full of such passages as these. And indeed the serious and attentive study of it, is the best way to get right measures of humility, and all the other parts of religion, which I have been endeavouring to describe.

But now that I may lessen your trouble of reading a long letter by making some pauses in it; let me here subjoyn a prayer that might be proper when one who had formerly entertain'd some false notions of religion, begins to discover what it is.

FINIS.