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(poor penfive fouls) they make it much worfe than indeed it is: charge themfelves with that which God never charged them with; though this be neither their wifdom, nor their duty; but the fears of milcarrying make them fufpect fraud in all they do or have.

7. Laftly, When your title is cleared, your hearts are eased; yea, not only eased, but overjoyed; though not in that degree, nor with the fame kind of joy with which the hearts of Chriftians are overflowed, when the Lord fpeaks peace to their fouls. O welcome the fweet morning light, after a tedious night of darknefs! now they can eat their bread with comfort, and drink their wine, yea, if it be but water, with a merry heart, Ecclef. ix. 7.

The careless foul's reflection.

REFLECTIONS.

1. O how hath my fpirit been toffed and hurried, when I have met with troubles and clamours about my eftate! But as for fpiritual troubles, and thofe foul-perplexing cafes, that Chriftians fpeak of, I understand but little of them. Inever called my everlafting ftate in queftion, nor broke an hour's fleep upon any fuch account. Ah, my fupine and careless foul! little haft thou regarded how matters ftand in reference to eternity! I have ftrongly conceited, but never thoroughly examined the validity of my title to Chrift, and his promifes; nor am I able to tell, if my own confcience fhould demand, whereupon my claim is grounded.

O my foul! why art thou fo unwilling to examine how matters ftand betwixt God and thee? Art thou afraid to look into thy condition, left by finding thine hypocrify, thou fhouldft lofe thy peace, or rather, thy fecurity? To what purpose will it be to fhut thine eyes against the light of conviction, unless thou couldft alfo find out a way to prevent thy condemnation? Thou feeft other fouls, how attentively they wait under the word, for any thing that may speak to their condition. Doubtlefs thou haft heard, how frequently and feriously they have stated their condition, and opened their cafes to the minifters of Chrift. But thou, O my foul! haft no fuch cafes to put, no doubts to be refolved; thou wilt leave all to the decifion of the great day, and not trouble thyfelf about it now. Well, God will decide it; but little to thy comfort.

The doubting foul's reflection.

2. I have heard how fome have been perplexed by litigious adverfaries; but I believe none have been so toft with fears, and distracted with doubts, as I have been about the state of my foul. Lord, what fhall I do? I have often carried my doubts and fcruples to thine ordinances, waiting for fatisfaction to be fpoken there. I have carried them to thofe I have judged skilful and faithful, begging their refolution and help, but nothing will ftick. Still my fears are daily renewed. O my God, do thou decide my cafe! tell me how the ftate ftands betwixt thee and me; my days confume in trouble, I can neither do nor

enjoy any good, whilst things are thus with me; all my earthly enjoyments are dry and uncomfortable things; yea, which is much worfe, all my duties and thine ordinances, prove fo too, by reafon of the troubles of my heart: I am no ornament to my profeffion; nay, I am a difcouragement and ftumbling-block to others. "I will "hearken and hear what God the Lord will speak :" O that it might be peace! If thou do not speak it, none can; and when thou doft, keep thy fervant from returning again to folly, left I make fresh work for an accufing confcience, and give new matter to the adverfary of my foul.

The affured Chriftian's reflection.

3. But thou, my foul, enjoyest a double mercy from thy bountiful God, who hath not only given thee a found title, but also the clear evidence and knowledge thereof. I am gathering, and daily feeding upon the full-ripe fruits of affurance, which grow upon the top boughs of faith; whilst many of my poor brethren drink their own tears, and have their teeth broken with gravel stones. Lord, thou haft fet my foul upon her high-places; but let me not exalt myfelf, because thou haft exalted me, nor grow wanton, because I walk at liberty; left for the abuse of fuch precious liberty, thou clap my old chains upon me, and fhut up my foul again in prifon.

THE POEM.

EN can't be quiet till they be affur'd

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That their eftate is good, and well fecur'd.
To able counfel they their deeds fubmit,
Intreating them with care t' examine it :
Fearing fome claufe an enemy may wreft,
Or find a flaw; whereby he may diveft
Them and their children. O who can but fee
How wife men in their generation be!

But do they equal cares and fears exprefs
About their everlafting happiness?

In fpiritual things 'twould grieve one's heart to fee
What careless fools these careful men can be.
They act like men of common fenfe bereaven;
Secure their lands, and they'll truft God for heaven.
How many cafes have you to fubmit

To lawyers' judgments? Minifters may fit
From week to week, and yet not see the face
Of one that brings a foul-concerning cafe.
Yea, which is worfe, how feldom do you cry
To God for counfel? Or beg him to try
Your hearts, and stricteft inquifition make
Into your eftate, difcover your mistake?

O ftupid fouls! clouded with ignorance,
Is Chrift and heaven no fair inheritance,

Compar'd with yours? Or is eternity

A fhorter term than yours, that you should ply
The one fo clofe, and totally neglect

The other, as not worth your least respect.
Perhaps the devil, whofe plot from you's conceal'd,
Perfuades your title's good, and firmly feal'd
By God's own Spirit; though you never found,
One act of faving grace to lay a ground

For that perfuafion. Soul, he hath thee faft,
Tho' he'll not let thee know it till the laft.
Lord, waken finners, make them understand,
'Twixt thee and them, how rawly matters ftand:
Give them no quiet reft until they fee

Their fouls fecur'd better than lands can be.

Occafional MEDITATIONS upon Birds, Beafts, Trees, Flowers, Rivers, and other Objects.

MEDITATIONS ON BIRDS.

MEDITATION I.

Upon the finging of a Nightingale.

HO that hears fuch various, ravishing, and exquifite melody,

W would imagine the bird that makes it, to be of fo fmall and

contemptible a body and feather? Her charming voice engaged not only mine attentive ear, but my feet, alfo to make a nearer approach to that fhady bufh in which that excellent musician fat veiled; and the nearer I came, the fweeter the melody still feemed to be; but when I had defcried the bird herself, and found her to be little bigger, and no better feathered than a fparrow, it gave my thoughts the occafion of this following application.

This bird feems to me the lively emblem of the formal hypocrite; (1.) In that he is more in found than fubftance, a loud and excellent voice, but a little defpicable body; and it recalled to my thoughts the ftory of Plutarch, who hearing a nightingale, defired to have one killed to feed upon, not questioning but the world pleafe the palate as well as the ear; but when the nightingale was brought him, and he faw what a poor little creature it was, Truly, faid he, thou art vox et præterea nihil,—a mere voice, and nothing elfe; fo is the hypocrite: did a man hear him fometimes in more public duties and discourses, O, thinks he, what an excellent man is this! what a choice and rare fpirit is he of! but follow him home, obferve him in his private converfation and retirements, and then you will judge Plutarch's note as applicable to him as the nightingale. (2.) This bird is obferved to

charm most sweetly, and fet her fpirits all on work, when she perceives the hath engaged attention; fo doth the hypocrite, who lives and feeds upon the applaufe and commendation of his admirers, and cares little for any of thofe duties which bring in no returns of praise fron men: he is little pleafed with a filent melody and private pleafure betwixt God and his own foul.

Scire tuum nihil eft nifi te fcire hoc fciat alter.

Alas! his knowledge is not worth a pin,
If he proclaims not what he hath within.

He is more for the theatre than the clofet; and of fuch Christ faith, Verily they have their reward." (3.) Naturalifts obferve the nightingale to be an ambitious bird, that cannot endure to be outvied by any: the will rather chufe to die than be excelled; a notable inftance whereof we have in the following pleasant poem, translated out of Starda, concerning the nightingale and a lutaniff.

Now the declining fun did downward bend
From higher heavens, and from his looks did fend
A milder flame, when near to Tyber's flow,
A lutanift allay'd his careful woe

With founding charms; and in a greeny feat
Of thady oak, took fhelter from the heat;
A nightingale o'erheard him, that did ufe
To fojourn in the neighbour groves, the muse
That fill'd the place, the fyren of the wood
(Poor harmless fyren!) ftealing near, she stood
Close lurking in the leaves attentively
Recording that unwonted melody:

She conn'd it to herfelf; and ev'ry ftrain
His fingers play'd, her throat return'd again.
The lutanift perceiv'd an answer fent
From th' imitating bird, and was content
To fhew her play more fully: then in haste
He tries his lute, and giving her a taste
Of the enfuing quarrel, nimbly beats
On all his strings: as nimbly the repeats;
And wildly raging o'er a thoufand keys,
Sounds a thrill warning of her after-lays :
With rolling hand the lutanift then plies
The trembling threads, fometimes in fcornful wife
He brushes down the ftrings, and strikes them all
With one even stroke, then takes them several,
And culls them o'er again; his fparkling joints
With bufy difcant mincing on the points,
Reach back again with nimble touch, then stays:
The bird replies, and art with art repays.

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Sometimes as one'unexpert, and in doubt,
How the might wield her voice, the draweth out
Her tone at large, and doth at first prepare
A folemn ftrain, nor wear'd with winding air,
But with an equal pitch, and constant throat,
Makes clear the paffage for her gliding note;
Then crofs divifion diverfly fhe plays,

And loudly chanting out her quickest lays,
Poifes the found, and, with a quivering voice,
Falls back again. He wond'ring how fo choice,
Se various harmony could iffue out

From fuch a little throat, doth go about

Some harder leffons, and with wond'rous art,
Changing the ftrings, doth up the treble dart,
And downward finite the bafe, with painful ftroke
He beats; and as the trumpet doth provoke
Sluggards to fight, ev'n fo his wanton fkill
With mingled difcord joins the hoarfe and fhrill.
The bird this alfo tunes; and whilft fhe cuts
Sharp notes with melting voice, and mingled puts
Meafures of middle found, then fuddenly
She thunders-deep, and jugs it inwardly
With gentle murmur, clear and dull the fings
By course, as when the martial warning rings.
Believ't the minstrel blusht, with angry mood:
Inflam'd (quoth he) thou chantrefs of the wood,
Either from thee I'll bear the prize away,
Or vanquish'd, break my lute without delay.
Inimitable accents then he ftrains,

His hand flies on the ftrings; in one he chains
Far different numbers, chafing here and there,
And all the ftrings he labours every where?
Both flat and fharp he ftrikes, and ftately grows
To prouder ftrains, and backward as he goes
Doubly divides, and clofing up his lays
Like a full choir, a fhiv'ring confort plays :
Then paufing, ftood in expectation

Of his co-rival, nor durft anfwer on.

But fhe, when practice long her throat had whet,
Enduring not to yield, at once doth fet

Her fpirits all to work, and all in vain ;
For whilft fhe labours to exprefs again,
With nature's fimple voice, fuch divers keys,
With flender pipes fuch lofty notes as thefe.

O'ermatch'd with high defigns o'ermatch'd with woe;
Just at the laft-encounter of her foe,

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