A Prayer

A Prayer.

Infinite and Eternal Majestie, Author and Fountain of Being and Blessedness, how little do we poor sinful creatures know of You, or the way to serve and please You? We talk of religion and pretend to it; but alas! how few are there that know and consider what it means? How easily do we mistake the affections of our nature, and issues of self-love, for those divine graces which alone can render us acceptable in your sight? It may justly grieve me to consider, that I should have wandered so long, and contented my self so often with vain shadows and false images of piety and religion: yet I cannot but acknowledge and adore your goodness, who has been pleased in some measure to open mine eyes, and let me see, what it is at which I ought to aim. I rejoyce to consider what mighty improvements my nature is capable of, and what a divine temper of spirit does shine in those whom you are pleased to choose, and cause to approach to you. Blessed be your Infinite Mercy who sent your own Son to dwell among men, and instruct them by his example as well as his laws, giving them a perfect pattern of what they ought to be. O that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may be always in my thoughts, and before mine eyes, till I receive a deep sense and impression of those excellent graces that shined so eminently in him, and let me never remit my endeavours till that new and divine nature prevail in my soul, and Christ be formed within me.

And now, my dear Friend, having discovered the nature of true religion, before I proceed any further, it will not perhaps be unfit to fix our meditations a little on the excellency and advantages of it, that we may be excited to the more vigorous and diligent prosecution of those methods whereby we may attain so great a felicity. But alas! what words shall we find to express that inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures which can never be rightly understood, but by those holy souls who feel them? A stranger intermeddleth no with their joy. Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and healthful constitution of the soul: its faculties had formerly been enfeebled, and disordered so that they could not exerce their natural functions. It had wearied it self with endless tossings, and rollings, and was never able to find any rest. Now that distemper is removed, and it feels it self well, there is a due harmony in its faculties, and a sprightly vigor possesseth every part. The understanding can discern what is good, and the will can cleave to it, the affections are not tied to the motions of sense, and the influence of external objects; but they are stirred by more divine impressions, are touched by a sense of invisible things.

Let us descend, if you please, into a nearer and more particular view of religion in those several branches of it which were named before: let us consider that love and affection wherewith holy souls are united to God, that we may see what excellency and felicity is involved in it. Love is that powerful and prevalent passion, by which all the faculties and inclinations of the soul are determined, and on which both its perfection and happiness does depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love: he who loves mean and sordid things, does thereby become base and vile; but a noble and well-placed affection does advance and improve the spirit to a conformity with the perfections which it loves. The images of these do frequently present themselves to the mind, and by a secret force and energy insinuate into the very constitution of the soul, and mould and fashion it to their own likeness. Hence we may see how easily lovers or friends do slide to the imitation of the person whom they affect, and how even before they are aware, they begin to resemble them, not only in the more considerable instances of their deportment, but also in their voice and gesture, and that which we call their mien and air; and certainly we should as well transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of the soul, if they were the object and motive of our love. But now as all the creatures we converse with have their mixture and alloy, we are always in hazard to be sullied, and corrupted by placing our affection on them. Passion does easily blind our eyes, that we first approve, and then imitate the things that are blameable in them. The true way to improve and ennoble our souls, is by fixing our love on the divine perfections, that we may have them always before us, and derive an impression of them on our selves, and beholding with open face as in a glass the glory of the Lord, we may be changed into the same image from glory to glory. He who with a generous and holy ambition had raised his eyes toward that uncreated beauty and goodness, and fixed his affection there, is quite of another spirit, a more excellent and heroic temper than the rest of the world, and cannot but infinitely disdain all mean and unworthy things, will not entertain any low or base thoughts, which might disparage his high and noble pretensions. Love is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters of, and therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it unworthily; it is indeed the only thing we can call our own, other things may be taken from us by violence, but none can ravish our love. If any thing else be counted ours, by giving our love, we give all, in so far as we make over our hearts and wills, by which we possess our other enjoyments. It is not possible to refuse him any thing, to whom by love we have given our selves; yes, since it is the privilege of gifts to receive their value from the mind of the giver, and not to be measured by the event, but by the desire; he who loves may in some sense be said not only to bestow all that he has, but all things else which may make the beloved person happy, since he does heartily wish them, and would really give them, if they were in his power. In which sense it is that one makes bold to say, that divine love does in a manner give God to himself, by the complacency it takes in the happiness and perfection of his nature. But though this may seem too big an expression, certainly love is the worthiest present we can offer to God, and it is extremely debased when we bestow it another way.

When this affection is misplaced, it does often vent itself, in such expressions, as point at its genuine and proper object, and insinuate where it ought to be placed: the flattering and blasphemous terms of adoration, wherein men do sometimes express their passion, are the language of that affection which was made and designed for God: as he who is accustomed to speak to some great person, does perhaps unawares accost another with those titles he was wont to give to him. But certainly that passion which accounteth its object a deity, ought to be bestowed on him who is really so: those unlimited submissions, which would debase the soul, if directed to any other, will exalt and ennoble it, when placed here: those chains and cords of love are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery is more noble than all the empires in the world.

Again, as divine love does advance and elevate the soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy: the highest and most ravishing pleasures, the most solid and substantial delights, the humane nature is capable of, are those which arise from the endearments of a well-placed and successful affection. That which imbitters love, and makes it ordinarily a very troublesome and hurtful passion, is the placing it on those who have not worth enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to requite it, or whose absence may deprive us of the pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion our trouble: to all these evils are they exposed, whose chief and supreme affection is placed on creatures like themselves; but the love of God delivers us from them all.

First, I say, love must needs be miserable, and full of trouble and disquietude, when there is not worth and excellency enough in the object to answer the vastness of its capacity: so eager and violent a passion cannot but fret and torment the spirit, when it finds not wherewith to satisfy its cravings; and indeed so large and unbounded is its nature, that it must be extremely pinched, and straitened, when confined to any creature: nothing below an infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, and exercise its activity and vigor: what is a little skin-deep beauty or some small degrees of goodness to match or satisfy a passion which was made for God, designed to embrace an infinite good. No wonder lovers do so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that others should approve their passion by imitating it: they know the scantness and narrowness of the good which they love, that it cannot suffice two, being in effect too little for one: hence love which is strong as death occasioneth jealousy which is cruel as the grave, the coals whereof, are coals of fire, which has a most violent flame.

But divine love has no mixture of this gall: when once the soul is fixed on that supreme and all-sufficient good, it finds so much perfection and goodness, as does not only answer and satisfy its affection, but master and over-power it too: it finds all its love to be too faint and languid for such a noble object, and is only sorry that it can command no more, it wisheth for the flames of a seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be wholly melted and dissolved into love: and because it can do so little itself, it desires the assistance of the whole creation, that angels and men would concur with it in the admiration and love of those infinite perfections.

Again, love is accompanied with trouble, when it misses a suitable return of affection: love is the most valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we do in effect give all that we have; and therefore it must needs be afflicting to find so great a gift despised, that the present which one has made of his whole heart, cannot prevail to obtain any favor for him. Perfect love is a kind of self-dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves, it's a kind of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to himself, and all his own interests, not thinking of them, nor caring for them any more, and minding nothing but how he may please and gratify the party whom he loves: thus is he quite undone unless he meet with reciprocal affection, he neglects himself, and the other has no regard to him; but if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were, and lives in the soul and care of the person whom he loves, and now he begins to mind his own concernments, not so much because they are his, as because the beloved is pleased to own an interest in them: he becomes dear to himself, because he is so to the other.

But why should I enlarge in so known a matter, nothing can be more clear than that the happiness of love depends on the return it meets with; and herein the divine lover has unspeakably the advantage, having placed his affection on him whose nature is love, whose goodness is as infinite as his being, whose mercy prevented us, when we were his enemies, therefore cannot choose but embrace us, when we are become his friends: it is utterly impossible that God should hide his face, and deny his love to a soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires nothing so much as to serve and please him: he cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart in which it is engraven: love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is the sacrifice which he will not despise.

Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and renders it a miserable and disquiet passion, is absence and separation from those we love: it is not without a sensible affliction that friends do part, though for some little time, it is sad to be deprived of that society which is so delightful, our life becomes tedious, being spent in an impatient expectation of the happy hour wherein we may meet again: but if death have made the separation, as sometime or other it must, this occasions a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the misfortunes of humane life, and wherein we pay dear enough for the comforts of our friendship. But O how happy are those who have placed their love on him who can never be absent from them: they need but to open their eyes, and they shall every where behold the traces of his presence and glory, and converse with him whom their soul loves; and this makes the darkest prison, or wildest desert, not only supportable; but delightful to them.

In fine, a lover is miserable if the person whom he loves be so: they who have made an exchange of hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another's happiness and misery: and this makes love a troublesome passion, when placed on earth. The most fortunate person has grief enough to mar the tranquillity of his friend, and it is hard to hold out, when we are attacked on all hands, and suffer not only in our own person, but in another's. But if God were the object of our love, we should share in an infinite happiness without any mixture, or possibility of diminution: we should rejoice to behold the glory of God, and receive comfort and pleasure from all the praises wherewith men and angels do extol him. It should delight us beyond all expression to consider, that the Beloved of our souls is infinitely happy in himself, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne: that our God is in the heavens, and does whatever he pleases.

Behold on what sure foundations his happiness is built, whose soul is possessed with divine love, whose will is transformed into the will of God, and whose greatest desire is that his Maker should be pleased: O the peace, the rest, the satisfaction that attends such a temper of mind!

What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thus as it were to lose ourselves in him, and being swallowed up in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves a living sacrifice always ascending to him in flames of love: never does a soul know what a solid joy and substantial pleasure is, till once being weary of itself, it renounce all propriety, give itself fully up to the Author of its being, and feel itself become a hallowed and devoted thing, and can say from an inward sense and feeling, My Beloved is mine, (I account all his interest mine own) and I am his. I am content to be any thing for him, and care not for myself, but that I may serve him. A person moulded to this temper, would find pleasure in all the dispensations of Providence: temporal enjoyments would have another relish, when he should taste the divine goodness in them, and consider them as tokens of love sent by his dearest Lord and Maker. And chastisements though they be not joyful but grievous, would hereby lose their sting, the rod as well as the staff would comfort him: he would snatch a kiss from the hand that were smiting him, and gather sweetness from that severity. Yes, he would rejoice that though God did not the will of such a worthless and foolish creature as himself, yet he did his own will, and accomplished his own designs, which are infinitely more holy and wise.

The exercises of religion which to others are insipid and tedious, do yield the highest pleasure and delight to souls possessed with divine love: they rejoice when they are called to go up to the house of the Lord, that they may see his power and his glory, as they have formerly seen it in his Sanctuary. They never think themselves so happy, as when, having retired from the world, and gotten free from the noise and hurry of affairs, and silenced all their clamorous passions, those troublesome guests within, they have placed themselves in the presence of God, and entertain fellowship and communion with him: they delight to adore his perfections, and recount his favours, and to protest their affection to him, and tell him a thousand times that they love him, to lay out their troubles or wants before him, and disburden their hearts in his bosom. Repentance itself is a delightful exercise when it flows from the principle of love, there is a secret sweetness which accompanies those tears of remorse, those meltings and relentings of a soul returning to God, and regretting its former unkindness. The heightened endearments of lovers newly reconciled after some estrangements of their affections, are a very imperfect shadow and resemblance of this.

The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch which we are obliged to keep over our hearts and ways, are very troublesome to those who are only ruled and acted by an external law, and have no law in their minds inclining them to the performance of their duty. But where divine love possesses the soul, it stands as sentinel to keep out every thing that may offend the Beloved, and does disdainfully repulse those temptations which assault it: it complies cheerfully, not only with explicit commands, but with the most secret notices of the Beloved's pleasure, and is ingenious in discovering what will be most grateful and acceptable to him. It makes mortification and self-denial almost change their harsh and dreadful names, and become easy, sweet and delightful things.

But I find this part of my letter swell bigger than I designed, (indeed who would not be tempted to dwell on so pleasant a theme) I shall endeavour to compensate it by brevity in the other points.

The next branch of the divine life, is an universal charity and love. The excellency of this grace will be easily acknowledged; for what can be more noble and generous than a heart enlarged to embrace the whole world, whose wishes and designs are levelled at the good and welfare of the universe, which considers every man's interest as its own? He who loves his neighbor as himself, can never entertain any base or injurious thought, or be wanting in expressions of bounty: he had rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of one; and never accounts himself happy, but when some one or other has been benefited by him. The malice or ingratitude of men is not able to resist his love; he overlooks their injuries, and pities their folly, and overcomes their evil with good, and never designs any other revenge against his most bitter and malicious enemies, than to put all the obligations he can upon them, whether they will or not. Is it any wonder that such a person be reverenced and admired, and accounted the darling of mankind? This inward goodness and benignity of spirit reflects a certain sweetness and serenity upon the very countenance, and makes it amiable and lovely: it inspires the soul with a noble resolution and courage, and makes it capable of enterprising and effectuating the highest things. Those heroic actions which we are wont to read with admiration, have for the most part been the effects of the love of one's country, or of particular friendships, and certainly a more extensive and universal affection, must be much more powerful and efficacious.

Again, as charity flows from a noble and excellent temper; so it is accompanied with the greatest satisfaction and pleasure: it delights the soul to feel itself thus enlarged, and to be delivered from those disquieting as well as deforming passions, malice, hatred, and envy; and become gentle, sweet, and benign. Had I my choice of all things that might tend to my present felicity, I would pitch upon this, to have my heart possessed with the greatest kindness and affection towards all men in the world. I am sure this would make me partake in all the happiness of others, their inward endowments and outward prosperity, every thing that did benefit and advantage them, would afford me comfort and pleasure: and though I should frequently meet with occasions of grief and compassion, yet there is a sweetness in commiseration which makes it infinitely more desirable than a stupid insensibility. And the consideration of that infinite goodness and wisdom which governs the world, might repress any excessive trouble for particular calamities that happen in it: and the hopes or possibility of men's after-happiness, might moderate their sorrow for their present misfortunes. Certainly next to the love and enjoyment of God, that ardent charity and affection wherewith blessed souls do embrace one another, is justly to be reckoned as the greatest felicity of those regions above, and did it universally prevail in the world, it would anticipate that blessedness, and make us taste of the joys of heaven upon earth.

That which I named as a third branch of religion was purity, and you may remember I described it to consist in a contempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness to undergo those troubles and pains we may meet with in the performance of our duty: now the naming of this may suffice to recommend it as a most noble and excellent quality. There is no slavery so base as that whereby a man becomes drudge to his own lusts; nor any victory so glorious as that which is obtained over them. Never can that person be capable of any thing that is noble and worthy, who is sunk in the gross and feculent pleasures of sense, or bewitched with the light and airy gratifications of fancy; but the religious soul is of a more sublime and divine temper, it knows it was made for higher things, and scorns to step aside one foot out of the ways of holiness, for the obtaining of any of these.

And this purity is accompanied with a great deal of pleasure: whatever defiles the soul, disturbs it too; all impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart and trouble behind them. Excess and intemperance, and all inordinate lusts, are so much enemies to the health of the body, and the interests of this present life, that a little consideration might oblige any rational man to forbear them on that very score. And if the religious person go higher, and do not only abstain from noxious pleasures; but neglect those that are innocent, this is not to be looked upon as any violent and uneasy restraint, but as the effect of better choice, that their minds are taken up in the pursuit of more sublime and refined delights, so that they cannot be concerned in these. Any person that is engaged in a violent and passionate affection, will easily forget his ordinary gratifications, will be little curious about his diet, or his bodily ease, or the divertisements he was wonted to delight in. No wonder then if souls overpowered with divine love despise inferior pleasures, and be almost ready to grudge the body its necessary attendance for the common accommodations of life, judging all these impertinent to their main happiness, and those higher enjoyments they are pursuing. As for the hardships they may meet with, they rejoice in them, as opportunities to exercise and testify their affection: and since they are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the honor to suffer for him.

The last branch of religion is humility; and however to vulgar and carnal eyes this may appear an abject, base and despicable quality, yet really the soul of man is not capable of an higher and more noble endowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride, but humility arises from a nearer acquaintance with excellent things, which keeps men from doating on trifles, or admiring themselves because of some petty attainments. Noble and well educated souls have no such high opinion of riches, beauty, strength, and other such like advantages, as to value themselves for them, or despise those that want them: and as for inward worth and real goodness, the sense they have of the divine perfections, makes them think very meanly of any thing they have hitherto attained, and be still endeavouring to surmount themselves, and make nearer approaches to those infinite excellencies which they admire.

I know not what thoughts people may have of humility, but I see almost every person pretending to it, and shunning such expressions and actions as may make them be accounted arrogant and presumptuous, so that those who are most desirous of praise, will be loath to commend themselves. What are all those complements and modes of civility so frequent in our ordinary converse, but so many protestations of our esteem of others, and the low thoughts we have of ourselves? And must not that humility be a noble and excellent endowment, when the very shadows of it are accounted so necessary a part of good breeding.

Again, this grace is accompanied with a great deal of happiness and tranquility: the proud and arrogant person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but most of all to himself. Every thing is enough to vex him; but scarce any thing sufficient to content and please him. He is ready to quarrel with every thing that falls out, as if he himself were such a considerable person, that God Almighty should do every thing to gratify him, and all the creatures of heaven and earth should wait upon him, and obey his will. The leaves of high trees do shake with every blast of wind; and every breath, every evil word will disquiet and torment an arrogant man. But the humble person has the advantage when he is despised, that none can think more meanly of him, than he does of himself, and therefore he is not troubled at the matter, but can easily bear those reproaches which wound the other to the soul: and withal as he is less affected with injuries, so indeed he is less obnoxious to them. Contention which comes of pride betrays a man into a thousand inconveniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper are seldom meeting with. True and genuine humility begets both a veneration and love among all wise and discerning persons, while pride defeats its own design, and deprives a man of that honor it makes him pretend to.

But as the chief exercises of humility are those which relate to Almighty God, so these are accompanied with the greatest satisfaction and sweetness; it is impossible to express the great pleasure and delight which religious persons feel in the lowest prostrations of their soul before God, when having a deep sense of the Divine Majesty and Glory, they sink (if I may so speak) to the very bottom of their beings, and vanish and disappear in the presence of God, by a serious and affectionate acknowledgment of their own nothingness, and the shortness and imperfections of all their attainments, when they understand the full sense and emphasis of the Psalmist's exclamation, Lord, what is Man? and can utter it with the same affection: neither did ever any haughty and ambitious person receive the praises and applauses of men with so much pleasure, as the humble and religious do renounce them, Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your Name give glory, &c.

Thus I have spoken something of the excellencies and advantage of religion in its several branches; but should be very injurious to the subject, did I pretend to have given any perfect account of it. Let us acquaint ourselves with it, my dear Friend, let us acquaint ourselves with it, and experience will teach us more than all that ever has been spoken or written concerning it. But if we may suppose the soul to be already awakened to some longing desires after so great a blessedness, it will be good to give them vent, and suffer them to issue forth in some such aspirations as these,