Right Honorable,
It was an ancient constitution in Israel, that a brother dying without issue, the next brother should do the office of a kinsman, and raise up seed to his brother deceased, to continue his name that it might not be put out of Israel. The Lord having not long since taken out of his vineyard a faithful laborer, and from myself a loving and dear brother, I thought that in some manner the equity of this constitution, now antiquated and abolished, did lay hold upon me. And that being the next brother, I was to do the office of a brother, to continue and eternize his blessed memorial in God's Church by bringing to light this present treatise. He himself while he lived wrote it, and had perfected it before his death; I have but only raised it out of his private study to the public use of God's Church. The children, said Hezekiah, are come to the birth, and there is no strength to bring forth (Isaiah 37:3). Thus it fared with this author. He had finished and perfected this work, and brought it even to the birth, but there was no time to bring it forth. God preventing him, and, by his death, bringing him to the end of his faith — his translation into the heavens — before he came to bring this work to the end of his desire, the publication thereof to the benefit of God's Church. I thought it great pity that so hopeful an issue should perish for want of a little help in the birth. And I thought withal in case of my negligence, or refusal of his brotherly office, how justly I might have deserved the ignominious ceremony of the spittle in my face (Deuteronomy 25:9). Hereupon I willingly performed this task of perusing and setting forth this treatise. Zachary when he could not speak, he wrote: so I desired that his pen might make some supply of the want of his tongue; that as Abel by his faith, so he by his works, being dead might yet speak.
Thus in brief has your Ladyship the reason of my present endeavors (Hebrews 11:4).
For me to say anything in commendation of this work is not perhaps so fitting, it being both hard for one brother to commend another without boasting, and the younger and inferior his commendation adding little credit or grace to the work of his elder and superior. For as the less is blessed, so also praised of the greater (Hebrews 7:7). I mean therefore herein to be sparing. Only this: I will but as the widows, which showed Peter the coats and garments which Dorcas made, while she was with them. So only will I show, and set forth some part of his labors which he performed while he was with us. And let his own works praise him in the gate (Proverbs 31:31). And surely this work will do it, if either matter, or manner, argument or art will do it.
The matter and argument of it is such, as yet handled at large by none before him that I know of.
And besides it is excellent by reason of the daily use which occurs in practice. So that of the title and argument of this book may I say as Gellius speaks of a good title which Melissus had given to a book of his own which it seemed scarce deserved it, that the very title had a great alluring and enticing force to draw men to the reading of it. Such is the argument of this work, of such special use in our practice, that it may easily persuade any, both to read, and like it. It contains the right [illegible], the art of knowing a man's self; it discovers to us, the infinitely intricate windings, and turnings of the dark labyrinths of man's heart. Indeed oftentimes the discoveries of cozenages, and deceits in the world make many, before honestly ignorant, to turn cozeners and deceivers. But here needs no such fear, for here we are taught no new deceit or cozening tricks, which yet we practice not; but rather are convinced of that cozenage, with which we deceive our own souls, and yet will not be borne down to be guilty of imposture. This point is worthy our best wits, and knowledge. That heathen philosopher never thought himself to begin to know philosophy, till he began to know himself. But surely we never begin to know divinity or religion, till we come to know ourselves: ourselves we cannot know, till we know our hearts. Indeed, our hearts are deceitful above all things, who can know them? They who with diligence shall peruse this present treatise shall with God's blessing be able in some good measure to know them. Here shall they find that dangerous art of self-sophistry displayed, by which millions of souls are enwrapped in the snares of Satan. And so by seeing their self-deceit, shall come to their self-knowledge. A knowledge never more neglected. Vt nemo in sese tentat descendere, nemo. Men care not for knowing themselves, who are oftentimes too curiously greedy of knowing all things else, being herein like to foolish travelers, that love to travel into, and talk of other strange countries, strangers in the mean time in the rarities, secrets, and wonders of their own. As for the art, and manner of handling this argument in this treatise, I leave it to the reader's judgment, venturing notwithstanding myself to say thus much, that had this treatise but age and antiquity answerable to the sufficiency, it should easily find answerable acceptance. Nothing prejudices writers more, than either men's knowledge of their persons, or their want of antiquity. May not a man speak of many of our new writers as Gellius spoke once of a good speech that Favorinus made? Nonne, says he, si id Antisthenes, aut Diogenes dixisset, dignum memoria visum esset? If Diogenes or Antisthenes had but spoken that which Favorinus did, the speech had gone for half an oracle, now happily the more regardless because from Favorinus, that was inferior, it may be, in nothing to Diogenes but in standing. How many worthy modern writers among us neglected, only because modern? Nonne si haec Augustinus, aut Chrisostomus, etc. Had but Augustine, or Chrysostome or some ancient father wrote them, how had they been admired, now neglected, only because as Bildad speaks they are but of yesterday? Most men's judgment of writers is the same as that of wine (Luke 5:39). The old is better. And yet oftentimes, the old is hard and tart, and nearer vinegar than wine, when the new is sweet and pleasant. How many works of some of the fathers which have little worth else in them besides antiquity, and the credit of an ancient father's name? How would we vilify those same things in new writers, which we so magnify in old writers? I speak it not to derogate anything from the worth of those ancient worthies, and revered sages (I give them all due reverence and respect), but only to meet with that fond humor, which measures worth only by age, as if nothing could be good, but that which is old: and from a mean conceit of writers' persons known, are ready to prejudge their works unread, and unknown.
But as for your ladyship; I persuade myself that your knowledge of the author's person, parts, and endowments with which God had graced him, will be the greater means to win your honorable acceptance of this work. And so much the rather do I presume upon your ladyship's favor herein, because while this author lived (out of a love to his graces, and honorable disposition) he intended this work to have been honored by the patronage of your worthy and right noble brother, who now also together with this author is at rest, singing heavenly Hallelujahs in the presence of the Lamb.
Pardon me good Madam, if I renew your grief with the mention and remembrance of so great a loss. Give us leave to testify our fellow feeling of your sorrows. Public losses may not pass without public heaviness. It is a loss that yields us argument both of great grief, and as great fear: can it be a small grief to see ourselves deprived of the use and benefit of so many rare virtues, and honorable inclinations, of so great learning in so few years, of so great grace, holiness, and religion in so young years, as were sweetly met and combined in him? His rare endowments, his noble disposition, his religious conversation, his hopeful service to God's Church, and this kingdom considered, I may say of the Church and commonwealth, as once Valerius spoke of Cornelia in the loss of her loving husband, Corneliam nescio an faeliciorem dixerim quod talem virum habuerit, an miserioremquod amiserit: it is hard to say whether we were happier in the enjoyment, or unhappier in the loss of such a personage. And as in his loss there is great cause of grief, so no less of fear. We may grieve that so great good is taken from us, we may fear because some great evil is coming upon us. The righteous perishes, and no man considers that he is taken away, from the evil that is to come (Isaiah 57:1). Surely when good men, especially being great men, and young men too, are taken away, it is a fearful presage of much anger, and evil to come. The Lord make us all wise to consider the deaths of such men, that the fear of evils to come, may make us seek to avoid evil present, and make us prudent in the foresight of the plagues to hide ourselves.
But yet in the midst of this grief and fear, your Ladyship is not left altogether comfortless. As it is a comfort that God honored your family with such an one, so is this also none of the least comforts to you, that you mourn not alone, but have the hearts of all good men heavy with yours. It makes our joy the greater to have others rejoice with us, when we rejoice: but it makes our sorrow the less when we have others, to weep with us, when we weep. Did Abner, said David, die as a fool? So of him it may be said. Did he die as an undeserving, as an ignoble person? Without tears? Without lamentation? I think I may boldly speak it, that never any of his place, and of his years, left more heavy hearts behind him than he has done. These are miserable griefs indeed, when others find matter of joy in the matter of our grief, and laugh at our tears; but then may we grieve comfortably, when we see others join with us, and lay to heart our losses, as well as ourselves.
I would willingly both enlarge his commendation and our grief, but these require rather a volume than an epistle. And I may speak of him as Augustine of another, Illa quidem anima in societatem fidelium et castarum recepta, laudes nec curat, nec quaerit humanas, imitationem tantum quaerit: He desires more the imitation than commendation of his virtues; and the imitation rather of his life, [reconstructed: than] a lamentation for his death.
Yet may I not altogether pass over in silence his holy and religious course; which was, to keep a catalogue or diary of his sins against God: and every night, or the next morning, to review the faults of the day past. Every Sabbath morning, or night before, to review the faults of the whole week: and at the end of every month to survey the whole month's transgressions. This did he daily, weekly, and monthly, thereby the better to humble himself for his sins, and renew his practice of repentance. And the day before his receiving of the holy Sacrament did always use to humble himself before the Lord with fasting, prayer, and confession, thereby the better to prepare himself for the more worthy and comfortable receiving of the holy communion.
I say nothing of his religious observation of the Sabbath by himself alone, and with his people about him both before and after the public exercises, in meditation, reading, prayer, and repetitions. His careful expense of time, his keeping of set hours of study. Thus did he with good Josiah, while he was yet a child seek the Lord. By means of which his holy and constant course in seeking the Lord, in few years he became wiser than his ancients and teachers, and preserved his young years, in great honor and reputation, free from all the blemishes and stains of youth, notwithstanding the manifold occasions to the contrary in regard of his place and condition. The truth is, the world was not worthy of him. His virtues and his graces were fitter for heaven than this impure earth.
Let us now that are behind, turn our grief into care, let our care be to follow those holy steps he has trod before us. True it is you can never recover his person, his graces you may: the grief will be the [reconstructed: less] for the loss of his person, if you make a recovery of his graces. While his spirit is doubled upon your Honor, and his graces shall survive in your religious imitation, so long we shall count him living in yourself.
And now, Right Honorable, I entreat you by the love that he bore to this author, and by the love that you bore to his honorable patrons, your deceased father, and brother (both now glorified saints) to testify your love to this author by your honorable, and favorable acceptance of this work.
May your Ladyship but please to grant the reading, and diligent perusal thereof, and I dare presume upon as much. Thus as I have raised this to light, so I commend it to your Honor's patronage, and protection: and your Honor to the patronage and protection of the Lord Jesus. May 5, Epping in Essex.
Your Honor's in all service, Jeremiah Dyke.
