only to affect the heart, after that the mind hath thus traversed the point proposed through all the heads of reason, it shall endeavour to find, in the first place, some feeling touch and sweet relish in that which it hath thus chewed; which fruit, through the blessing of God, will voluntarily follow upon a serious meditation. David saith, "O taste and see how gracious the Lord is." In meditation we do both see and taste, but we see before we taste. Sight is of the understanding; taste, of the affections. Neither can we see, but we must taste; we cannot know aright, but we must needs be affected. Let the heart therefore first conceive and feel in itself the sweetness or bitterness of the matter meditated; which is never done without some passion, nor expressed without some hearty exclamation.

"O blessed estate of the saints! O glory not to be expressed, even by those who are glorified! O incomprehensible salvation! What savour hath this earth to thee? Who can regard the world, that believeth thee? Who can think of thee, and not be ravished with wonder and desire? Who can hope for thee, and not rejoice? Who can know thee, and not be swallowed up with admiration at the mercy of him that bestoweth thee? O blessedness, worthy of Christ's blood to purchase thee! worthy of the continual songs of saints and angels to celebrate thee! How should I magnify thee! How should I long for thee! How should I hate all this world for thee!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

2 A Complaint, bewailing our Wants and Untowardness.

AFTER this taste shall follow a complaint, wherein the heart bewaileth to itself its own poverty, dulness, and imperfection; chiding and abasing itself, in respect of its wants and indisposition: wherein humiliation truly goeth before glory, for the more we are cast down in our conceit, the higher shall God lift us up at the end of this exercise in spiritual rejoicing.

"But, alas, where is my love? where is my longing?

Where art thou, O my soul? What heaviness hath overtaken thee? How hath the world bewitched and possessed thee, that thou art become so careless of thy home, so senseless of spiritual delights, so fond upon these vanities? Dost thou doubt whether there be a heaven? or whether thou have a God and a Saviour there? O far be from thee this atheism! far be from thee the least thought of this desperate impiety. Woe were thee, if thou believedst not! But, thou of little faith, dost thou believe there is happiness, and happiness for thee, and desirest it not and delightest not in it? Alas, how weak and unbelieving is thy belief! how cold and faint are thy desires! Tell me what such goodly entertainment hast thou met withal here on earth, that was worthy to withdraw thee from these heavenly joys? What pleasure in it ever gave thee contentment? or what cause of dislike findest thou above? O no, my soul; it is only thy miserable drowsiness, only thy security: the world, the world hath besotted thee, hath undone thee with carelessness. Alas, if thy delight be so cold, what difference is there in thee from an ignorant heathen that doubts of another life? yea, from an Epicurean that denies it? Art thou a Christian, or art thou none? If thou be what thou professest, away with this dull and senseless worldliness; away with this earthly uncheerfulness. Shake off at last this profane and godless security that hath thus long weighed thee down from mounting up to thy joys. Look up to thy God and to thy crown; and say with confidence, “O Lord, I have waited for thy salvation."

CHAPTER XXX.

3. A hearty Wish of the Soul for what it complaineth to want.

AFTER this complaint, must succeed a hearty and passionate wish of the soul, which ariseth clearly from the two former degrees; for that which a man hath found sweet and comfortable, and complains that he still wanteth, he cannot but wish to enjoy.

"O Lord, that I could wait and long for thy salvation !

O that I could mind the things above! that, as I am a stranger indeed, so I could be also in affection! O that mine eyes, like the eyes of thy first martyr, could, by the light of faith, see but a glimpse of heaven! O that my heart could be rapt up thither in desire! How should I trample upon these poor vanities of the earth! How willingly should I endure all sorrows, all torments! How scornfully should I pass by all pleasures! How should I be in travail of my dissolution! O when shall that blessed day come, when, all this wretched worldliness removed, I shall solace myself in my God? "Behold, as the hart panteth for the rivers of waters, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God; even for the living God. O when shall I come and appear before the presence of God?"

CHAPTER XXXI.

4. An humble Confession of our Disability to effect what we wish.

AFTER this wishing, shall follow humble confession, by just order of nature; for, having bemoaned our want and wished supply, not finding this hope in ourselves, we must needs acknowledge it to him of whom only we may both seek and find. Where it is to be duly observed, how the mind is, by turns, depressed and lifted up; being lifted up with our estate of joy, it is cast down with complaint; lift up with wishes, it is cast down with confession: which order doth best hold it in pure and just temper, and maketh it more feeling of the comfort which followeth in the conclusion. This confession must derogate all from ourselves, and ascribe all to God.

"Thus I desire, O Lord to be rightly affected towards thee and thy glory. I desire to come to thee, but, alas, how weakly! how heartlessly! Thou knowest that I can neither come to thee nor desire to come, but from thee. It is nature that holds me from thee. This treacherous nature favoureth itself, loveth the world, hateth to think

of a dissolution, and chooseth rather to dwell in this dungeon with continual sorrow and complaint, than to endure parting, although to liberty and joy. Alas, Lord, it is my misery, that I love my pain. How long shall these vanities thus besot me? It is thou only that canst turn away mine eyes from regarding these follies, and my heart from affecting them thou only, who, as thou shalt one day receive my soul into heaven, so now beforehand canst fix my soul upon heaven and thee."

CHAPTER XXXII.

5. An earnest Petition for that which we confess to want.

AFTER confession naturally follows petition, earnestly requesting that at his hands, which we acknowledge ourselves unable, and none but God able, to perform.

"O carry it up therefore, thou that hast created and redeemed it, carry it up to thy glory! O let me not always be thus dull and brutish; let not these scales of earthly affection always dim and blind mine eyes! O thou that layedst clay upon the blind man's eyes, take away this clay from mine eyes; wherewith, alas, they are so daubed up, that they cannot see heaven. Illuminate them from above, and "in thy light let me see light." O thou that hast prepared a place for my soul, prepare my soul for that place; prepare it with holiness: prepare it with desire; and even while it sojourneth on earth, let it dwell in heaven with thee, beholding ever the beauty of thy face, the glory of thy saints and of itself."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

6. A vehement Enforcement of our Petition.

AFTER petition will follow the enforcement of our request, from argument and importunate obsecration; wherein we

must take heed of complimenting in terms with God, as knowing that he will not be mocked by any fashionable form of suit, but requireth holy and feeling entreaty.

"How graciously hast thou proclaimed to the world, that whoever wants wisdom shall ask it of thee, who neither deniest nor upbraidest! O Lord, I want heavenly wisdom to conceive aright of heaven. I want it, and ask it of thee. Give me to ask it instantly; and give it me, according to thy promise, abundantly. Thou seest it is no strange favour that I beg of thee, no other than that which thou hast richly bestowed upon all thy valiant martyrs, confessors, servants, from the beginning; who never could have so cheerfully embraced death and torment, if, through the midst of their flames and pain, they had not seen their crown of glory. The poor thief on the cross had no sooner craved thy remembrance when thou camest to thy kingdom, than thou promisedst to take him with thee into heaven. Presence was better to him, than remembrance. Behold, now thou art in thy kingdom; I am on earth; remember thine unworthy servant, and let my soul in conceit, in affection, in conversation, be this day and for ever with thee in paradise. I see that " man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain;" they are pitiful pleasures he enjoyeth, while he forgetteth thee. I am as vain; make me more wise. O let me see heaven; and I know, I shall never envy, nor follow them! My times are in thy hand :" I am no better than my fathers; a stranger on earth. As I speak of them, so the next, yea this generation shall speak of me, as one that was. My life is a bubble, a smoke, a shadow, a thought: I know there is no abiding in this thoroughfare. O suffer me not to be so mad, as while I pass on the way, I should forget the end! It is that other life that I must trust to. With thee it is, that I shall continue. O let me not be so foolish, as to settle myself on what I must leave, and to neglect eternity. I have seen enough of this earth, and yet I love it too much. O let me see heaven, another while; and love it so much more than the earth, by how much the things there are more worthy to be loved. O God, look down on thy wretched pilgrim and teach me to look up to thee, and to see thy goodness in the land of the

66