self a Christian, to be as eager after riches as other men? If I had no Father in heaven, nor promise in the world, it were another matter: but since my heavenly Father knows what I have need of, and has charged me to be careful in nothing, but only to tell him my wants, how unbecoming a thing is it in me to live and act as I have done! Let me henceforth learn to measure and estimate my condition, rather by its usefulness to God, than its content and ease to my flesh.

CHAPTER V.

On the Improvement of bad Ground. Observation.-WHERE land is spent out by tillage for want of manuring, the careful husbandman has many ways to recover and bring it into heart again. He lets it lie fallow, to give it rest, and time to recover itself; carries out to it his sand, lime, and compost, to refresh and quicken it again; and in pasture and meadow ground, will wash it, if possible, with a current of water. He cuts down and kills the weeds that suck it out, and causes them to make restitution of what they have purloined from it, by rotting upon the place where they grew. As careful are they to recover it, when it is spent, as an honest physician is of his patient in a languishing condition; for he knows his field will be as grateful to him, and fully requite his care and cost.

Application. As man's, so God's husbandry, is sometimes out of case, not by yielding too many crops, but too few. The mystical husbandman has some fields, (I mean particular societies and persons, who were once fragrant and fruitful like a field) which he once blessed, but they are now decayed and grown barren; their gleanings formerly were more than their vintage now; the things that are in them are ready to die. It is possible, yea, too common for gracious souls to be reduced to a very low ebb, both of graces

and comforts; how low I will not say. Our British divines tell us, that grace indeed cannot be totally intermitted, nor finally lost; but there may be an omission of the act, even though there be not an omission of the habit. Certain it is, one that, like Paul, has been transported with joy, even to the third heavens, and cried, "I am more than a conqueror; who shall separate me from the love of Christ?" may, at another time lie mourning, as at the gates of death, crying, " O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" One that has walked in sweet communion with God, rejoicing in the light of his countenance, may afterwards "walk in darkness, and see no light." He who has cast anchor within the veil, and rode securely in the peaceful harbour of assurance, may seem to feel his anchor of hope lost, and go adrift into the stormy ocean again, crying with the church, "My hope is perished from the Lord." His calm and clear air may be overcast and clouded, yea, filled with storms and tempests, lightnings and thunders. His graces, like under-ground flowers in the winter, may all disappear, and hide their beautiful heads. To God he may say, “I am cast out of thy sight. I know thou canst do much, but wilt thou show wonders to the dead?" To the promises he may say, "You are sweet things indeed, but what have I to do with you? I could once, indeed, rejoice in you, as my portion; but now I fear that I grasped a shadow, a fancy, instead of you." To saints he may say, "Turn away from me; labor not to comfort me. do not spill your precious ointment of consolation upon my head; for what have I to do with comfort ?" To former experiences he may say in his haste, "You are all liars." To the light of God's countenance he may say, Farewell, sweet light. I shall behold thee no more.' To Satan he may say, "O mine enemy, thou hast at last prevailed against me; thou art stronger than I, and hast overcome.' To duties and ordinances he may say, "Where is the sweetness I once found in you? You were once sweeter to me than the honey-comb; but now tasteless." O sad relapse! deplorable change!

But will God leave his poor creatures helpless in such

a case as this? Shall their leaf fall, their branches wither, their joy, their life, their hearts depart? Will he see their graces fainting, their hopes expiring, the things that are in them ready to die, and will he not regard it? He will regard it. "There is hope of a tree if it be cut down, and the root thereof wax old in the earth, yet by the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant," Job xiv. 8. This poor declining soul, though it sit thus sad at the gates of hell, may rouse up itselfat last, and say to Satan, who stands triumphing over it, "Rejoice not over me, O mine enemy, for though I fall, yet I shall arise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me," Micah vii. 8. He may raise up himself upon the bed of languishing, and say to God, "Though thou hast chastened me sore, yet hast thou not given me over unto death." He may turn about to the saints who have mourned for him, and with a lightsome countenance say, "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord." He may say to the promises, "You are the true and faithful sayings of God. My unbelief did belie you; I said in my haste you were liars, but I am ashamed of my folly. Surely, O soul, there is yet hope in thine end; thou mayest be restored; thou mayest yet recover thy verdure, and thy dew be as the dew of herbs." For,

1. Is he not thy father, and a father full of compassion? And can a father stand by his dying child, see his faintings, hear his melting groans and pity-begging looks, and not help him, especially having restoratives by him, that can do it? Surely "as a father pities his own children, so will thy God pity thee," "He will spare thee as a father spareth his own son that serves him." Hark, how his bowels yearn! "I have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself. Is not Ephraim my dear son? Is he not a pleasant child? For since I spake against him, I do earnestly remember him still, I will surely have mercy on him," Jer. xxxi. 20.

2. Does he not know that thy life would be altogether useless to him, if he should not restore thee? What service art thou fit to perform for him in such a condition? "Thy days will consume like smoke, whilst thy heart

is smitten and withered like grass." Thy months will be months of vanity, they will fly away, and see no good. If he will but quicken thee again, then thou mayest call upon his name; but in a dead and languishing condition thou art no more fit for any work of God, than a sick man is for manual labors; and surely he has not put those precious and excellent graces of the Spirit within thee for nothing; they were planted there for fruit and service, and therefore doubtless he will revive thee again.

3. Yea, dost thou not think that he sees thine inability to bear such a condition long? He knows" thy spirit would fail before him, and the soul which he hath made." David told him as much in the like condition; "Hear me speedily, O Lord, for my spirit faileth; hide not thy face from me, lest I be like unto those that go down into the pit."

And in like manner Job expostulated with him; "My grief is heavier than the sand of the sea, my words are swallowed up, for the arrows of the Almighty are within me; and the poison thereof drinks up my spirits. The terrors of God do set themselves in array against me. What is my strength that I should hope? Is my strength the strength of stones? or are my bones of brass?" Job vi. 1. Other troubles a man may, but this he cannot bear; and therefore, doubtless, seasonable and gracious revivings will come. "He will not stir up all his wrath, for he remembers thou art but flesh, a wind that passeth away, and cometh not again," Psal. lxxvii. 38. He has ways enough to do it. If he do but unveil his blessed face, and make it shine again upon thee, thou art saved; Psal. lxxx. 3. The manifestations of his love, will be to thy soul, as showers to the parched grass; a new face shall come upon thy graces; they shall bud again, and blossom as a rose. Then shalt thou return to thy first works, and sing, as in the days of thy youth.

Reflections. O this is my very case, says many a poor Christian. Thus my soul languishes and droops from day to day. It is good news indeed; that God both can and will restore my soul; but sad that I should fall into such a state. How unlike am I to what I once was!

Surely, as the old men wept when they saw how short the second temple came of the glory of the first, so may I sit down and weep bitterly, to consider how much my first love and first duties excelled the present. For,

1. Is my heart so much in heaven now, as it was wont to be? Say, O my soul, dost thou not remember, when, like the beloved disciple, thou laidst in the bosom of Jesus? How sweet was thy communion with him! How restless and impatient wast thou in his absence! What a burden was the world to me in those days! Had it not been for the sake of my duty, I could have been willing to neglect all, that communion with Christ might suffer no interruption. When I awoke in the night, how was the darkness enlightened by the heavenly glimpses of the countenance of my God upon me! How did his company shorten those hours, and beguile the tediousness of the night? O my soul, speak thy experience-is it now as it was then? No; those days are past and gone, and thou art become almost a stranger to that heavenly life. Art thou able with truth to deny this charge? When occasionally I pass by those places which were once to me as Jacob's Bethel to him, I sigh at the remembrance of former intercourse betwixt me and heaven there, and say with Job, "O that it were with me as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me, when his candle shined upon my head, when by his light I walked through darkness, when the Almighty was yet with me, when I put on righteousness, and it clothed me, when my glory was fresh in me! When I remember these things my soul is poured out within me."

2. Is my obedience to the commands of Christ as free and cheerful as it was wont to be? Call to mind, my soul, the times when thou wast borne down the stream of love to every duty. If the Spirit did but whisper to thee, saying, "Seek my face," how did my spirit echo to his calls, saying, "Thy face, Lord, will I seek!" If God had any work to be done, how readily did I offer my service! "Here am I, Lord, send me.' My soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib; love oiled the wheels of my affections, and "his commandments were not grievous."