Chap. XVI Heavenly Contemplation Exemplified, and the Whole Work Concluded
§ 1. The reader’s attention excited to the following example of meditation. § 2. “The excellencies of heavenly rest. § 3. Its nearness, § 4. Dreadful to sinners § 5. And joyful to saints; § 6. Its dear purchase; § 7. Its difference from earth. § 8. The heart pleaded with. § 9. Unbelief banished. § 10. A careless world pitied. § 11-13. Heavenly rest the object of love, § 14-21. And joy. § 22. The heart’s backwardness to heavenly joy lamented. § 23-27. Heavenly rest the object of desire.” § 28. Such meditations as this urged upon the reader: § 29. The mischief of neglecting it: § 30. The happiness of pursuing it. § 31. The Author’s concluding prayer for the success of his work.
§ 1. And now reader, according to the above directions, make conscience of daily exercising thy graces in meditation, as well as prayer: Retire into some secret place, at a time the most convenient to thyself, and laying aside all worldly thoughts, with all possible seriousness and reverence, look up toward heaven, remember there is thine everlasting rest, study its excellency and reality, and rise from sense to faith, by comparing heavenly with earthly joys: Then mix ejaculations with thy soliloquies; till having pleaded the case reverently with God, and seriously with thy own heart, thou hast pleaded thyself from a clod to a flame, from a forgetful sinner, and a lover of the world, to an ardent lover of God, from a fearful coward, to a resolved Christian, from an unfruitful sadness, to a joyful life: In a word, till thou hast pleaded thy heart from earth to heaven, from conversing below to walking with God; and till thou canst lay thy heart to rest, as in the bosom of Christ, by some such meditation of thy everlasting rest as is here added for thy assistance.
§ 2. “Rest! How sweet the sound! It is melody to my ears! It lies as a reviving cordial at my heart, and from thence sends forth lively spirits, which beat through all the pulses of my soul! Rest,—not as the stone that rests on the earth, nor as the flesh shall rest in the grave, nor such a rest as the carnal world desires. O blessed rest! When we rest not day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty! When we shall rest from sin, but not from worship; from suffering and sorrow, but not from joy! O blessed day! When I shall rest with God! When I shall rest in the bosom of my Lord! When I shall rest in knowing, loving, rejoicing, and praising! When my perfect soul and body shall together perfectly enjoy the most perfect God! When God, who is love itself, shall perfectly love me, and rest in his love to me, as I shall rest in my love to him; and rejoice over me with joy, and joy over me with singing, as I shall rejoice in him!
§ 3. “How near is that most blessed, joyful day! It comes apace. He that shall come, will come, and will not tarry. Though my Lord seems to delay his coming, yet a little while and he will be here. What is a few hundred years, when they are over? How surely will his sign appear? How suddenly will he seize upon the careless world, even as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth unto the west? He who is gone hence shall so come. Methinks I hear his trumpet sound! Methinks I see him coming with clouds; with his attending angels in majesty and glory!
§ 4. “O secure sinners! What now will you do? Where will you hide yourselves? What shall cover you? mountains are gone; the heavens and the earth, which were, are passed away; the devouring fire hath consumed all, except yourselves, who must be the fuel for ever. O that all could consume as soon as the earth; and melt away as did the heavens! Ah, these wishes are now but vain! The Lamb himself would have been your friend; he would have loved you, and ruled you, and now have saved you; but you would not then, and now it is too late. Never cry Lord, Lord; too late, too late, man. Why dost thou look about? Can any save thee? Whither dost thou run? Can any hide thee? O wretch, that hast brought thyself to this!
§ 5. “Now, blessed saints, that have believed and obeyed! This is the end of faith and patience. This is it for which you prayed and waited. Do you now repent your sufferings and sorrows, your self-denying and holy walking? Are your tears of repentance now bitter or sweet! See how the Judge smiles upon you; there is love in his looks; the titles of Redeemer, Husband, Head, are written in his amiable, shining face. Hark, he calls you, he bids you stand here on his right-hand; fear not, for there he sets his sheep. O joyful sentence! Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. He takes you by the hand, the door is open, the kingdom is his, and therefore yours; there is your place before his throne; the father receives you as the spouse of his Son, and bids you welcome to the crown of glory. Ever so unworthy, you must be crowned. This was the project of free redeeming grace, the purpose of eternal love. O blessed grace! O blessed love! O how love and joy will rise! but I cannot express it, I cannot conceive it.
§ 6. “This is that joy which was produced by sorrow, that crown which was procured by the cross. My Lord wept, that now my tears might be wiped away; He bled, that I might now rejoice; he was forsaken, that I might not now be forsook; he then died, that I might now live. O free mercy, that can exalt so vile a wretch! Free to me though dear to Christ! Free grace, that hath chosen me, when thousands were forsaken! When my companions in sin must burn in hell, I must here rejoice in rest! Here must I live with all these saints! O comfortable meeting of my old acquaintance, with whom I prayed, and wept and suffered, and spoke often of this day and place! I see the grave could not detain you; the same love hath redeemed and saved you also.
§ 7. “This is not like our cottages of clay, our prisons, our earthly dwellings. This voice of joy is not like our old complaints, our impatient groans and sighs; nor this melodious praise like the scoffs and revilings, or the oaths and curses, which we heard on earth. This body is not like that we had, nor this soul like the soul we had, nor this life like the life we lived. We have changed our place and state, our clothes and thoughts, our looks, language, and company. Before, a saint was weak and despised; so proud and peevish, we could often scarce discern his graces: but now how glorious a thing is a saint! Where is now their body of sin, which wearied themselves and those about them? Where are now our different judgments, reproachful names, divided spirits, exasperated passions, strange looks, uncharitable censures? Now we are all of one judgment, of one name, of one heart, house, and glory. O sweet reconciliation! Happy union! Now the gospel shall no more be dishonored through our folly. No more, my soul, shalt thou lament the sufferings of the saints, or the church’s ruins, nor mourn thy suffering friends, nor weep over their dying beds, or their graves. Thou shalt never suffer thy old temptations from Satan, the world, or thy own flesh. Thy pains and sicknesses are all cured; thy body shall no more burden thee with weakness and weariness; thy aching head and heart, thy hunger and thirst, thy sleep and labor, are all gone. O what a mighty change is this! From the dunghill, to the throne! from persecuting sinners, to praising saints! From a vile body, to this which shines as the brightness of the firmament! From a sense of God’s displeasure, to the perfect enjoyment of him in love! From all my doubts and fears, to this possession, which puts me out of doubt! From all my fearful thoughts of death, to this joyful life! Blessed change! Farewell, sin, and sorrow, for ever: Farewell, my rocky, proud, unbelieving heart; my worldly, sensual, carnal heart: And welcome now my most holy, heavenly nature. Farewell, repentance, faith, and hope; and welcome, love, and joy, and praise. I shall now have my harvest, without ploughing or sowing; my joy without a preacher, or a promise; even all from the face of God himself. Whatever mixture is in the streams, there is nothing but pure joy in the Fountain. Here shall I be encircled with eternity and ever live, and ever, ever praise the Lord. My face will not wrinkle, nor my hair be grey; for this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal immortality, and death shall be swallowed up in victory. O death, where is now thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The date of my lease will no more expire, nor shall I trouble myself with thoughts of death, nor lose my joys through fear of losing them. When millions of ages are passed, my glory is but beginning; and when millions more are passed, it is no nearer ending. Every day is all noon, every month is harvest, every year is a jubilee, even age is full manhood, and all this is one eternity. O blessed eternity! The glory of my glory! the perfection of my perfection!
§ 8. “Ah drowsy, earthly heart! How coldly dost thou think of this reviving day? Hadst thou rather sit down in dirt, than walk in the palace of God? Art thou now remembering thy worldly business, or thinking of thy lusts, earthly delights and merry company? Is it better to be here, than above with God? Is the company better? Are the pleasures greater? Come away; make no excuse, nor delay; God commands, and I command thee; gird up thy loins; ascend the mount; look about thee with faith and seriousness. Look not back upon the way of the wilderness; except it be to compare the kingdom with that howling desert, more sensibly to perceive the wide difference. Yonder is thy Father’s glory; yonder, O my soul! must thou remove, when thou departest from this body; and when the power of thy Lord hath raised it again, and joined thee to it, yonder must thou live with God for ever. There is the glorious new Jerusalem, the gates of pearl, the foundations of pearl, the streets and pavement of transparent gold. That sun, which lighteth all this world, will be useless there; even thyself shall be as bright as yonder shining sun; God will be the sun, and Christ the light, and in his light shalt thou have light.
§ 9. “O my soul! dost thou stagger at the promise of God through unbelief? I much suspect thee, didst thou believe indeed thou wouldst be more affected with it. Is it not under the hand, and seal, and oath of God? Can God lie? Can he that is truth itself be false? What need hath God to flatter or deceive thee? Why should he promise thee more than he will perform? Dare not to charge the wise, almighty, faithful God with this. How many of the promises have been performed to thee in thy conversion? Would God so powerfully concur with a feigned word? O wretched heart of unbelief? Hath God made thee a promise of rest, and wilt thou come short of it? Thine eyes, thy ears, and all thy senses, may prove delusions, sooner than a promise of God can delude thee. Thou mayest be surer of that which is written in the word, than if thou see it with thine eyes, or feel it with thine hands. Art thou sure thou art alive, or that this is earth thou standest on, or that thine eyes see the sun? As sure is all this glory to the saints; as sure shall I be higher than yonder stars, and live for ever in the holy city, and joyfully sound forth the praise of my Redeemer; if I be not shut out by this evil heart of unbelief, causing me to depart from the living God.
§ 10. “And is this rest so sweet, and so sure? Then what means the careless world? Know they what they neglect? Did they ever hear of it, or are they yet asleep, or are they dead? Do they certainly know that the crown is before them, while they thus sit still or follow trifles? Undoubtedly they are beside themselves, to mind so much their provision by the way, when they are hasting so fast to another world, and their eternal happiness lies at stake. Were there left one spark of reason, they would never sell their rest for toil, nor their glory for worldly vanities, nor venture heaven for sinful pleasure. Poor men! O that you would once consider what you hazard, and then you would scorn these tempting baits! Blessed for ever be that love, which hath rescued me from this bewitching darkness!
§ 11. “Draw yet nearer, O my soul! with thy most fervent love. Here is matter for it to work upon, something worth thy loving. O see what beauty presents itself! Is not all the beauty in the world united here? Is not all other beauty but deformity? Dost thou now need to be persuaded to love? Here is a feast for thine eyes, and all the powers of thy soul; dost thou need entreaties to feed upon it? Canst thou love a little shining earth, a walking piece of clay? And canst thou not love that God, that Christ, that glory, which is so truly and unmeasurably lovely? Thou canst love thy friend, because he loves thee; and is the love of a friend like the love of Christ? Their weeping or bleeding for thee, do not ease thee, nor stay the course of thy tears or blood: But the tears and blood that fell from thy Lord, have a sovereign healing virtue. O my soul! if love deserves, and should beget love, what incomprehensible love is here before thee? Pour out all the store of thy affections here, and all is too little. O that it were more; O that it were many thousand times more! Let him be first served, that served thee first. Let him have the first-born, and strength of thy soul! who parted with strength and life in love for thee. O my soul! Dost thou love for excellency? Yonder is the region of light; this is a land of darkness. Yonder twinkling stars, that shining moon, and radiant sun, are all but lanthorns hung out of thy Father’s house, to light thee while thou walkest in this dark world: But how little dost thou know the glory and blessedness that is within?—Dost thou love for suitableness? What person more suitable than Christ? His godhead and humanity, his fulness and freeness, his willingness and constancy, all proclaim him thy suitable friend. What state more suitable to thy misery, than mercy? Or to thy sin and pollution, than honor and perfection? What place more suitable to thee than heaven? Does this world agree with thy desires; hast thou not a sufficient trial of it?—Or dost thou love for interest and near relation? Where hast thou better interest than in heaven, or nearer relation than there?
§ 12. “Dost thou love for acquaintance and familiarity? Though thine eyes have never seen thy Lord, yet thou hast heard his voice, received his benefits, and lived in his bosom; He taught thee to know thyself and him; he opened thee that first window through which thou sawest into heaven. Hast thou forgotten since thy heart was careless, and he awakened it; hard, and he softened it; stubborn, and he made it yield; at peace, and he troubled it; whole, and he broke it; and broken, till he healed it again? Hast thou forgotten the times when he found thee in tears; when he heard thy secret sighs and groans, and left all to come and comfort thee; when he took thee, as it were, in his arms, and asked thee, poor soul, what ails thee? Dost thou weep, when I have wept so much? Be of good cheer; thy wounds are saving, and not deadly; It is I have made them, who mean thee no hurt; though I let out thy blood, I will not let out thy life.” I remember his voice. How gently did he take me up? How carefully did he dress my wounds? Methinks I hear him still saying to me, “poor sinner, though thou hast dealt unkindly with me, and cast me off; yet I will not do so by thee. Though thou hast set light by me and all my mercies, yet they and myself are all thine. What wouldst thou have that I can give thee? And what dost thou want that I cannot give thee? If any thing I have will pleasure thee, thou shalt have it. Wouldst thou have pardon? I freely forgive thee all thy debt. Wouldst thou have grace and peace? Thou shalt have them both. Wouldst thou have myself? Behold I am thine, thy Friend, thy Lord, thy Brother, Husband, and Head. Wouldst thou have the Father? I will bring thee to him, and thou shalt have him, in and by me.” These were my Lord’s reviving words. After all, when I was doubtful of his love, methinks I yet remember his overcoming arguments. “Have I done so much, sinner, to testify my love, and yet dost thou doubt? Have I offered thee myself and love so long and yet dost thou question my willingness to be thine? At what dearer rate should I tell thee that I love thee? Wilt thou not believe my bitter passion proceeded from love? Have I made myself in the gospel a lion to thine enemies, and a lamb to thee, and dost thou overlook my lamb-like nature? Had I been willing to let thee perish, what need I have done and suffered so much? What need I follow thee with such patience and importunity? Why dost thou tell me of thy wants; have I not enough for me and thee? Or of thy unworthiness; for if thou wast thyself worthy, what shouldst thou do with my worthiness? Did I ever invite, or save, the worthy and the righteous; or is there any such upon earth? Hast thou nothing; art thou lost and miserable, helpless and forlorn? Dost thou believe I am an all-sufficient Savior, and wouldst thou have me? Lo, I am thine, take me; if thou art willing, I am; and neither sin, nor Satan, shall break the match.” These, O these, were the blessed words which his Spirit from his gospel spoke unto me, till he made me cast myself at his feet, and cry out, “My Savior, and my Lord, thou hast broke, thou hast revived my heart; thou hast overcome, thou hast won my heart; take it, it is thine; if such a heart can please thee, take it; if it cannot, make it such as thou wouldst have it.” Thus, O my soul! Mayest thou remember the sweet familiarity thou hast had with Christ; therefore, if acquaintance will cause affection, let out thy heart unto him. It is he hath stood by thy bed of sickness, hath eased thy pains, refreshed thy weariness, and removed thy fears. He hath been always ready, when thou hast earnestly sought him? hath met thee in public and private; hath been found of thee in the congregation, in thy house, in thy closet, in the field, in thy waking nights, in thy deepest dangers.
§ 13. “If bounty and compassion be an attractive of love, how unmeasurably then am I bound to love him? All the mercies that have filled up my life, all the places that ever I abode in, all the societies and persons I have been conversant with, all my employments and relations, every condition I have been in, and every change I have passed through, all tell me, that the fountain is overflowing goodness. Lord what a sum of Love am I indebted to thee? And how does my debt continually increase? How should I love again for so much love? But shall I dare to think of requiting thee, or of recompensing all thy love with mine? Will my mite requite thee for thy golden mines; my seldom wishes, for thy constant bounty, mine which is nothing, or not mine, for thine which is infinite and thine own? Shall I dare to contend in love with thee? or set my borrowed languid spark against the Sun of love? Can I love as high, as deep, as broad, as long, as Love itself; as much as he that made me, and that made me love, and gave me all that little which I have? As I cannot match thee in the works of power, nor make, nor preserve, nor rule the worlds; no more can I match thee in love. No, Lord, I yield; I am overcome. O blessed conquest! Go on victoriously, and still prevail, and triumph in thy love. The captive of love shall proclaim thy victory! when thou leadest me in triumph from earth to heaven, from death to life, from the tribunal to the throne; myself, and all that see it, shall acknowledge thou hast prevailed, and all shall say, behold how he loved him! Yet let me love in subjection to thy love; as thy redeemed captive, though not thy peer. Shall I not love at all, because I cannot reach thy measure? O that I could feelingly say, I love thee, even as I love my friend, and myself! Though I cannot say, as the Apostle, Thou knowest that I love thee; yet I can say, Lord, thou knowest that I would love thee; I am angry with my heart, that it doth not love thee; I chide it, yet it doth not mend; I reason with it, and would fain persuade it, yet I do not perceive it stir; I rub and chafe it in the use of thy ordinances, and yet I feel it not warm within me. Unworthy soul! Is not thine eye now upon the only lovely object? Art thou not beholding the ravishing glory of the saints? And dost thou not love? Art thou not a rational soul, and should not reason tell thee, that earth is a dungeon to the celestial glory? Art thou not thyself a spirit, and shouldst thou not love God, who is a spirit, and the Father of spirits? Why dost thou love so much thy perishing clay, and love no more the heavenly glory? Shalt thou love when thou comest there; when the Lord shall take thy carcase from the grave, and make thee shine as the sun in glory for ever and ever; shalt thou then love, or shalt thou not? Is not the place a meeting of lovers? Is not the life a state of love? Is it not the great marriage day of the Lamb? Is not the employment there the work of love, where the souls with Christ take their fill? O then, my soul, begin it here! Be sick of love now, that thou mayest be well with love there. Keep thyself now in the love of God; and let neither life, nor death, nor any thing separate thee from it; and thou shalt be kept in the fulness of love for ever, and nothing shall embitter or abate thy pleasure; for the Lord hath prepared a city of love, a place for communicating love to his chosen, and they that love his name shall dwell therein.
§ 14. “Awake then, O my drowsy soul! To sleep under the light of grace is unreasonable, much more in the approach of the light of glory. Come forth, my dull congealed spirit, thy Lord bids thee rejoice and again rejoice. Thou hast lain long enough in thy prison of flesh, where Satan hath been thy jailor, cares have been thy irons, fears thy scourges, and thy food the bread and water of affliction: where sorrows have been thy lodging, and thy sins and foes have made the bed, and an unbelieving heart hath been the gates and bars that have kept thee in: The angel of the covenant now calls thee, and strikes thee, and bids thee, arise and follow him. Up, O my soul! and cheerfully obey, and thy bolts and bars shall all fly open; follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. Shouldst thou fear to follow such a guide? Can the sun lead thee to a state of darkness? Will he lead thee to death, who died to save thee from it? Follow him, and he will shew thee the paradise of God; He will give thee a sight of the New Jerusalem, and a taste of the tree of life. Come forth, my drooping soul, and lay aside thy winter-dress; let it be seen by thy garments of joy and praise, that the spring is come, and as thou now seest thy comforts green; thou shalt shortly see them white and ripe for harvest, and then thou shalt be called to reap, and gather, and take possession. Should I suspend and delay my joys till then? Should not the joys of the spring go before the joys of harvest? Is title nothing before possession? Is the heir in no better a state than a slave? My Lord hath taught me to rejoice in hope of his glory; and how to see it through the bars of a prison; for when I am persecuted for righteousness’ sake, he commands me to rejoice, and be exceeding glad, because my reward in heaven is great. I know he would have my joys exceed my sorrows; and as much as he delights in the humble and contrite he yet more delights in the soul that delights in him. Hath my Lord spread me a table in this wilderness, and furnished it with the promises of everlasting glory, and set before me angels’ food? Doth he frequently and importunately invite me to sit down, and feed, and spare not? Hath he, to that end, furnished me with reason, and faith, and a joyful disposition; and is it possible that he should be unwilling to have me rejoice? Is it not his command, to delight thyself in the Lord; and his promise, to give thee the desires of thine heart? Art thou not charged, to rejoice evermore: yea, to sing aloud, and shout, for joy? Why should I then be discouraged? My God is willing, if I were but willing. He is delighted in my delights. He would have it my constant frame, and daily business, to be near him in my believing meditations, and to live in the sweetest thoughts of his goodness. O blessed employment, fit for the sons of God! But thy feast, my Lord, is nothing to me without an appetite: Thou hast set the dainties of heaven before me; but, alas! I am blind, and cannot see them; I am sick, and cannot relish them; I am so benumbed, that I cannot put forth a hand to take them. I therefore humbly beg this grace, that as thou hast opened heaven to me in thy word, so thou wouldst open mine eyes to see it, and my heart to delight in it; else heaven will be no heaven to me. O thou Spirit of life, breathe upon thy graces in me; take me by the hand, and lift me from earth, that I may see what glory thou hast prepared for them that love thee!
§ 15. “Away then, ye soul-tormenting cares and fears, ye heart-vexing sorrows: At least forbear a little while; stand by; stay here below, till I go up, and see my rest. The way is strange to me, but not to Christ. There was the eternal abode of his glorious Deity; and thither hath he also brought his glorified flesh. It was his work to purchase it; it is his to prepare it, and prepare me for it, and bring me to it. The eternal God of truth hath given me his promise, his seal, and oath, that, believing in Christ, I shall not perish, but have everlasting life. Thither shall my soul be speedily removed, and my body very shortly follow. And can my tongue say, that I shall shortly and surely live with God; and yet my heart not leap within me? Can I say it with faith, and not with joy! Ah! faith, how sensibly do I now perceive thy weakness! But though unbelief darken my light, and dull my life, and suppress my joys, it shall not be able to conquer, and destroy me; though it envy all my comforts, yet some in spite of it I shall even here receive; and if that did not hinder, what abundance might I have? The light of heaven would shine into my heart; and I might be almost as familiar there, as I am on earth. Come away then, my soul; stop thine ears to the ignorant language of infidelity; thou art able to answer all its arguments; or if thou art not, yet tread them under thy feet. Come away; stand not looking on that grave, nor turning those bones, nor reading thy lesson now in the dust; those lines will soon be wiped out. But lift up thy head, and look to heaven, and see thy name in golden letters, written before the foundation of the world, in the book of life of the Lamb that was slain. What if an angel should tell thee, that there is a mansion in heaven prepared for thee, that it shall certainly be thine for ever, would not such a message make thee glad? And dost thou make light of the infallible word of promise, which was delivered by the Spirit, and even by the Son himself? Suppose thou hadst seen a fiery chariot come for thee, and fetch thee up to heaven, like Elijah; would not this rejoice thee? But thy Lord assures thee, that the soul of a Lazarus hath a convoy of angels to carry it into Abraham’s bosom. Shall a drunkard be so merry among his cups, or the glutton in his delicious fare, and shall not I rejoice who must shortly be in heaven? Can meat and drink delight me when I hunger and thirst; can I find pleasure in walks and gardens, and convenient dwellings; can beautiful objects delight mine eyes; or grateful odors my smell; or melody my ears: and shall not the forethought of celestial bliss delight me? Methinks among my books I could employ myself in sweet content, and bid the world farewell, and pity the rich and great that know not this happiness; what then will my happiness in heaven be, where my knowledge will be perfect? If the Queen of Sheba came from the utmost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and see his glory; how cheerfully should I pass from earth to heaven, to see the glory of the eternal Majesty, and attain the height of wisdom; compared with which the most learned on earth are but fools and ideots? What if God had made me commander of the earth; what if I could remove mountains, heal diseases with a word or a touch, or cast out Devils; should I not rejoice in such privileges and honors as these; and shall I not much more rejoice that my name is written in heaven? I cannot here enjoy my parents, or my near and beloved friends, without some delight; especially when I did freely let out my affection to my friend, how sweet was that exercise of my love! O what will it then be to live in the perpetual love of God! For brethren to dwell together in unity here, how good and how pleasant is it! To see a family live in love, husband and wife, parents, children, and servants, doing all in love to one another; to see a town live together in love, without any envyings, brawlings or contentions, law-suits, factions, or divisions, but every man loving his neighbor as himself, thinking they can never do too much for one another, but striving to go beyond each other in love; how happy, how delightful a sight is this! O then, what a blessed society will the family of heaven be, and those peaceful inhabitants of the New Jerusalem, where there is no division, nor differing judgments, no disaffection nor strangeness, no deceitful friendship, no, not one unkind expression, nor any angry look or thought; but all are one in Christ, who is one with the Father, and all live in the love of him, who is love itself! The soul is not more where it lives, than where it loves. How near then will my soul be united to God, when I shall so heartily, strongly, and incessantly love him! Ah, wretched, unbelieving heart, that can think of such a day, and work, and life as this, with such low and feeble joys! But my future enjoying joys will be more lively!
§ 16. “How delightful is it to me to behold and study these inferior works of creation? What a beautiful fabric do we here dwell in; the floor so dressed with herbs, and flowers, and trees, and watered with springs and rivers; the roof so wide expanded, so admirably adorned! What wonders do sun, moon, and stars, seas, and winds, contain! And hath God prepared such a house for corruptible flesh, for a soul imprisoned; and doth he bestow so many millions of wonders upon his enemies! O what a dwelling must that be, which he prepares for his dearly beloved children; and how will the glory of the new Jerusalem exceed all the present glory of the creatures? Arise then, O my soul, in thy contemplation; and let thy thoughts of that glory as far exceed in sweetness thy thoughts of the excellencies below! Fear not to go out of this body, and this world, when thou must make so happy a change; but say, as one did when he was dying, I am glad, and even leap for joy, that the time is come in which that mighty JEHOVAH, whose Majesty, in my search of nature I have admired, whose goodness I have adored, whom by faith I have desired and panted after, will now shew himself to me face to face.
§ 17. “How wonderful also are the works of Providence? How delightful to see the great God interest himself in the safety and advancement of a few humble, praying, but despised persons; and to review those special mercies with which my own life hath been adorned and sweetened? How often have my prayers been heard, my tears regarded, my troubled soul relieved? How often hath my Lord bid me be of good cheer? What a support are these experiences, these clear testimonies of my Father’s love, to my fearful unbelieving heart? O then, what a blessed day will that be, when I shall have all mercy, perfection of mercy, and fully enjoy the Lord of mercy; when I shall stand on the shore, and look back on the raging seas I have safely passed; when I shall review my pains and sorrows, my fears and tears, and possess the glory which was the end of all? If one drop of lively faith was mixed with these considerations, what a heaven-ravishing heart should I carry within me? Fain would I believe; Lord, help my unbelief.
§ 18. “How sweet, O my soul, have ordinances been to thee? What delight hast thou had in prayer, and thanksgiving, under heavenly sermons, and in the society of saints, and to see the Lord adding to the church such as should be saved? How can my heart then conceive the joy, which I shall have to see the perfected church in heaven, and to be admitted into the celestial temple, and with the heavenly host praise the Lord forever? If the word of God was sweeter to Job than his necessary food; and to David, than honey and the honey-comb; and was the joy and rejoicing of Jeremiah’s heart; how blessed a day will that be, when we fully enjoy the Lord of this word, and shall no more need these written precepts and promises, nor read any book but the face of the glorious God? If they that heard Christ speak on earth, were astonished at his wisdom and answers, and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth; how shall I then be affected to behold him in his majesty?
§ 19. “Can the prospect of this glory make others welcome the cross, and even refuse deliverance; and cannot it make thee cheerful under lesser sufferings? Can it sweeten the flames of martyrdom; and not sweeten thy life, or thy sickness, or thy natural death? Is it not the same heaven which they and I must live in? Is not their God, their Christ, their crown, and mine the same? And shall I look upon it with an eye so dim, a heart so dull, a countenance so dejected? Some small foretastes of it have I myself had; and how much more delightful have they been, than any earthly things ever were; and what then will the full enjoyment be?
§ 20. “What a beauty is there here in the imperfect graces of the Spirit? Alas! how small are these, to what we shall enjoy in our perfect state? What a happy life should I here live, could I but love God as much as I would; could I be all love, and always loving? O my soul! what wouldst thou give for such a life? had I such apprehensions of God, such knowledge of his word as I desire? could I fully trust him in all my straits; could I be as lively as I would in every duty; could I make God my constant desire and delight; I would not envy the world their honors or pleasures. What a blessed state, O my soul! wilt thou shortly be in, when thou shalt have far more of these than thou canst now desire, and shalt exercise thy perfected graces in the immediate vision of God, and not in the dark, and at a distance, as now?
§ 21. “Is the sinning, afflicted, persecuted church of Christ, so much more excellent than any particular gracious soul? What then will the church be, when it is fully gathered and glorified; when it is ascended from the valley of tears to mount Sion; when it shall sin and suffer no more! The glory of the old Jerusalem will be darkness and deformity to the glory of the new. What cause shall we have then to shout for joy, when we shall see how glorious the heavenly temple is, and remember the meanness of the church on earth?”
[N. B. If this Chapter seems too long to be read at once, it may be properly divided here.]
§ 22. “But alas! what a loss am I at in the midst of my contemplations? I thought my heart had all the while attended, but I see it doth not. What life is there in empty thoughts and words, without affections? Neither God, nor I, find pleasure in them. Where hast thou been, unworthy heart, while I was opening to thee the everlasting treasures? Art thou not ashamed to complain so much of an uncomfortable life, and to murmur at God for filling thee with sorrows; when he in vain offers thee the delights of angels? Hadst thou now but followed me close, it would have made thee revive and leap for joy, and forget thy pains and sorrows. Did I think my heart had been so backward to rejoice?
§ 23. “Lord, thou hast reserved my perfect joys for heaven: therefore, help me to desire till I may possess, and let me long when I cannot, as I would rejoice. O my soul, thou knowest to thy sorrow, that thou art not yet at thy rest. When shall I arrive at that safe and quiet harbor, where there are none of these storms, waves, and dangers; when I shall never more have a weary restless night or day! Then my life will not be such a mixture of hope and fear, of joy and sorrow; nor shall flesh and spirit be combatting within me; nor faith and unbelief, humility and pride, maintain a continual conflict. O when shall I be past these soul-tormenting fears, and cares, and griefs? When shall I be out of this soul-contradicting, ensnaring, deceitful flesh; this corruptible body, this vain, vexatious world! Alas, that I must stand and see the church and cause of Christ tossed about in contention, and made subservient to private interests, or deluded fancies! There is none of this disorder in the heavenly Jerusalem; there I shall find an harmonious consent of perfected spirits, in obeying and praising their everlasting King. O how much better to be a door-keeper there, than the commander of this tumultuous world? Why am I no more weary of this weariness? Why do I so forget my resting place? Up then, O my soul, in thy most raised and fervent desires! Stay not till this flesh can desire with thee; expect not that sense should apprehend thy blessed object, and tell thee when and what to desire. Doth not the dulness of thy desires after rest, accuse thee of most detestable ingratitude and folly? Must thy Lord procure thee a rest at so dear a rate, and dost thou no more value it? Must he go before to prepare so glorious a mansion for such a wretch, and art thou loth to go and possess it? Shall the Lord of Glory be desirous of thy company, and thou not desirous of his? Must earth become a very hell to thee, before thou art willing to be with God? Behold the most lovely creature, or the most desirable state, and tell me, where wouldst thou be, if not with God? Poverty is a burden; riches a snare; sickness unpleasing; health unsafe; the frowning world bruises thy heel; the smiling world stings thee to the heart; so much as the world is loved and delighted in, it hurts and endangers the lover; and, if it may not be loved, why should it be desired? If thou art applauded, it proves the most contagious breath; if thou art vilified, or unkindly used, methinks this should not entice thy love. If thy successful labors, and thy godly friends, seem better to thee than a life with God, it is time for God to take them from thee. If thy studies have been sweet, have they not also been bitter? And at best, what are they to the everlasting views of the God of truth? Thy friends here have been thy delight; and have they not also been thy vexation and grief? They are gracious, and are they not also sinful? They are kind, and are they not soon displeased? They are humble, but, alas, how proud also? Their graces are sweet, and their gifts helpful; but are not their corruptions bitter, and their imperfections hurtful? And art thou so loth to go from them to thy God?
§ 24. “O my soul, look above this world of sorrows! Hast thou so long felt the smarting rod of affliction, and no better understood its meaning? Is not every stroke to drive thee hence? Is not its voice like that to Elijah, what dost thou here? Dost thou forget thy Lord’s prediction. In the world ye shall have tribulation, in me ye may have peace. Ah! my dear Lord, I feel thy meaning; it is written in my flesh, engraved in my bones. My heart thou aimest at; thy rod drives, thy silken cord of love draws; and all to bring it to thyself. Lord, can such a heart be worth thy having? Make it worthy, and then it is thine; take it to thyself, and then take me. This clod hath life to stir, but not to rise. As the feeble child to the tender mother, it looketh up to thee, and stretcheth out the hands, and fain would have thee take it up. Though I cannot say, my soul longeth after thee; yet I can say, I long for such a longing heart. The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. My spirit cries, let thy kingdom come, or let me come to thy kingdom; but the flesh is afraid thou shouldst hear my prayer, and take me at my word. O blessed be thy grace, which makes use of my corruptions to kill themselves; for I fear my fears, and sorrow for my sorrows, and long for greater longings; and thus the painful means of attaining my desires increase my weariness, and that makes me groan to be at rest.
§ 25. “Indeed, Lord, my soul itself is in a strait, and what to choose I know not; but thou knowest what to give: to depart, and be with thee, is far better. But to abide in the flesh seems needful. Thou knowest I am not weary of thy work, but of sorrow and sin; I am willing to stay while thou wilt employ me, and dispatch the work thou hast put into my hands: But, I beseech thee, stay no longer when this is done; and while I must be here, let me be still amending and ascending; make me still better and take me at the best. I dare not be so impatient, as to importune thee to cut off my time, and snatch me hence unready; because I know my everlasting state so much depends on the improvement of this life. Nor would I stay when my work is done; and remain here sinning, while my brethren are triumphing. Thy footsteps bruise this worm, while those stars shine in the firmament of glory. Yet I am thy child as well as they; Christ is my Head as well as theirs; why is there then so great a distance? But I acknowledge the equity of thy ways; though we are all children, yet I am the prodigal, and therefore more fit in this remote country to feed on husks, while they are always with thee, and possess thy glory. They were once themselves in my condition, and I shall shortly be in theirs. They were of the lowest form, before they came to the highest; they suffered, before they reigned; they came out of great tribulation, who are now before thy throne; and shall not I be content to come to the crown as they did; and to drink of their cup; before I sit with them in the kingdom? Lord, I am content to stay thy time, and go thy way, so thou wilt exalt me also in thy season, and take me into thy barn, when thou seest me ripe. In the mean time I may desire, though I am not to repine; I may believe and wish, though not make any sinful haste: I am willing to wait for thee, but not to lose thee; and when thou seest me too contented with thine absence, then quicken my languid desires, and blow up the dying spark of love; and leave me not till I am able unfeignedly to cry out, ‘As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God? My conversation is in heaven, from whence I look for a Savior. My affections are set on things above, where Christ sitteth, and my life is hid. I walk by faith, and not by sight; willing rather to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord.’
§ 26. “What interest hath this empty world in me; and what is there in it that may seem so lovely, as to entice my desires from my God, or make me loth to come away? Methinks, when I look upon it with a deliberate eye, it is a howling wilderness, and too many of its inhabitants are untamed monsters; I can view all its beauty as deformity; and drown all its pleasures in a few penitent tears; or the wind of a sigh will scatter them away. O let not this flesh so seduce my soul, as to make it prefer this weary life before the joys that are about thy throne! And though death itself be unwelcome to nature, yet let thy grace make thy glory appear to me so desirable, that the king of terrors may be the messenger of my joy! Let not my soul be ejected by violence, and dispossessed of its habitation against its will; but draw it to thyself by the secret power of thy love as the sunshine in the spring draws forth the creatures from their winter cells; meet it half way and entice it to thee, as the load-stone doth the iron, and as the greater flame attracts the less! Dispel therefore the clouds that hide thy love from me; or remove the scales that hinder mine eyes from beholding thee; for the beams that stream from thy face, and the foretaste of thy great salvation, and nothing else can make a soul unfeignedly say now let thy servant depart in peace! But it is not thy ordinary discoveries that will here suffice; as the work is greater, so must thy help be. O turn these fears into strong desires, and this lothness to die into longings after thee! While I must be absent from thee, let my soul as heartily groan, as my body doth under its want of health! If I have any more time to spend on earth, let me live, as without the world, in thee, as I have sometime lived as without thee in the world! While I have a thought to think, let me not forget thee; or a tongue to move, let me mention thee with delight; or a breath to breathe, let it be after thee, or for thee; or a knee to bend, let it daily bow at thy footstool; and when by sickness thou confinest me, do thou make my bed, number my pains, and put all my tears into thy bottle!
§ 27. “As my flesh desired what my spirit abhorred, so now let my spirit desire that day which my flesh abhorreth; that my friends may not with so much sorrow wait for the departure of my soul, as my soul with joy shall wait for its own departure! Then let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his; even a removal to that glory that shall never end! Then let thy convoy of angels bring my departing soul among the perfected spirits of the just, and let me follow my dear friends that have died in Christ before me; and while my sorrowing friends are weeping over my grave, let my spirit be reposed with thee in rest; and while my corpse shall lie rotting in the dark, let my soul be in the inheritance of the saints in light! O thou that numberest the very hairs of my head, number all the days that my body lies in the dust; and thou that writest all my members in thy book, keep an account of my scattered bones! O my Savior, hasten the time of thy return; send forth thy angels, and let that dreadful, joyful trumpet sound! Delay not, lest the living give up their hopes; delay not, lest earth should grow like hell, and thy church, by division, be all crumbled to dust; delay not, lest thy enemies get advantage of thy flock, and lest pride, hypocrisy, sensuality, and unbelief prevail against thy little remnant, and share amongst them thy whole inheritance, and when thou comest, thou find not faith on the earth; delay not, lest the grave should boast of victory, and having learned rebellion of its guest, should refuse to deliver thee up thy due! O hasten that great resurrection day, when thy command shall go forth, and none shall disobey; when the sea and earth shall yield up their hostages, and all that sleep in the grave shall awake, and the dead in Christ shall rise first; when the seed which thou sowedst corruptible, shall come forth incorruptible; and graves that received rottenness and dust, shall return thee glorious stars and suns! Therefore dare I lay down my carcass in the dust, entrusting it, not to a grave, but to thee, and therefore my flesh shall rest in hope, till thou shalt raise it to the possession of everlasting rest. Return, O Lord, how long? O let thy kingdom come! Thy desolate bride saith, Come! for thy Spirit within her saith, Come; and teacheth her thus to pray with groanings which cannot be uttered; yea, the whole creation saith, Come, waiting to be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God; thou thyself hast said, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, Come Lord Jesus?”
§ 28. Thus, reader, I have given thee my best advice for maintaining a heavenly conversation, If thou canst not thus meditate methodically and fully, yet do it as thou canst: only be sure to do it seriously and frequently. Be acquainted with this heavenly work, and thou wilt, in some degree, be acquainted with God; thy joys will be spiritual, prevalent, and lasting, according to the nature of their blessed object; thou wilt have comfort in life and death: When thou hast neither wealth, nor health, nor the pleasure of this world, yet wilt thou have comfort: Without the presence, or help of any friend, without a minister, without a book, when all means are denied thee, or taken from thee, yet mayest thou have vigorous, real comfort. Thy graces will be mighty, active, and vigorous; and the daily joy, which is thus fetched from heaven will be thy strength. Thou wilt be as one that stands on the top of an exceeding high mountain; he looks down on the world as if it were quite below him; fields and woods, cities and towns, seem to him but little spots. Thus despicably wilt thou look on all things here below. The greatest princes will seem but as grashoppers; the busy, contentious, covetous world, but as a heap of ants. Men’s threatenings will be no terror to thee; nor the honors of this world any strong enticement; temptations will be more harmless, as having lost their strength; and afflictions less grievous, as having lost their sting; and every mercy will be better known, and relished. It is now, under God, in thy own choice, whether thou wilt live this blessed life or not; and whether all this pains I have taken for thee shall prosper, or be lost. If it be lost through thy laziness, thou thyself wilt prove the greatest loser. O man, what hast thou to mind but God and heaven? Art thou not almost out of this world already? Dost thou not look every day, when one disease or other will let out thy soul? Does not the grave wait to be thine house; and worms to feed upon thy face and heart? What if thy pulse must beat a few strokes more? What if thou hast a little longer to breathe, before thou breathe out thy last; a few more nights to sleep, before thou sleepest in the dust? Alas! what will this be, when it is gone? And is it not almost gone already? Very shortly thou wilt see thy glass run out, and say to thyself, “My life is done! My time is gone! ’Tis past recalling! There’s nothing now but heaven or hell before me!” Where then should thy heart be now, but in heaven? Didst thou know what a dreadful thing it is, to have a doubt of heaven when a man is dying it would rouse thee up. And what else but doubt can that man then do, that never seriously thought of heaven before?
§ 29. Some there be that say, “It is not worth so much time and trouble, to think of the greatness of the joys above; so that we can make sure they are ours; we know they are great.” But as these men obey not the command of God, which requires them to have their conversation in heaven, and to set their affections on things above; so they wilfully make their own lives miserable, by refusing the delights which God hath set before them. And if this were all, it were a small matter; but see what abundance of other mischiefs follow the neglect of these heavenly delights. This neglect—will damp, if not destroy, their love to God;—will make it unpleasant to them to think or speak of God, or engage in his service;—it tends to pervert their judgments concerning the ways and ordinances of God;—it makes them sensual and voluptuous;—it leaves them under the power of every affliction and temptation, and is a preparative to total apostasy;—it will also make them fearful and unwilling to die. For who would go to a God, or a place, he hath no delight in? Who would leave his pleasure here, if he had not better to go to? Had I only proposed a course of melancholy and fear, and sorrow, you might reasonably have objected. But you must have heavenly delights, or none that are lasting. God is willing you should daily walk with him, and fetch in consolations from the everlasting fountain; if you are unwilling, even bear the loss; and when you are dying, seek for comfort where you can get it, and see whether fleshly delights will remain with you; then conscience will remember, in spite of you, that you was once persuaded to a way for more excellent pleasures, pleasures that would have followed you through death, and have lasted to eternity.
§ 30. As for you, whose hearts God hath weaned from all things here below, I hope you will value this heavenly life, and take one walk every day in the new Jerusalem. God is your love, and your desire, you would fain be more acquainted with your Savior; and I know it is your grief, that your hearts are not nearer to him, and that they do not more feelingly love him, and delight in him. O try this life of meditation on your heavenly rest! Here is the mount, on which the fluctuating ark of your souls may rest. Let the world see by your heavenly lives that religion is something more than opinions and disputes, or a task of outward duties. If ever a Christian is like himself, and answerable to his principles and profession, it is when he is most serious and lively in this duty. As Moses before he died, went up unto mount Nebo, to take a survey of the land of Canaan; so the Christian ascends this mount of contemplation, and by faith surveys his rest. He looks upon the glorious mansions, and says, “Glorious things are deservedly spoken of thee, thou city of God!” He hears, as it were, the melody of the heavenly choir, and says, “Happy is the people that is in such a case; yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord!” He looks upon the glorified inhabitants, and says, “Happy art thou, O Israel; who is like unto thee, O people, saved by the Lord, the shield of thy help, and who is the sword of thine excellency!” When he looks upon the Lord himself, who is their glory, he is ready with the rest, to fall down, and worship him, that liveth for ever and ever, and say, “Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come! Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and honor, and power!” When he looks on the glorified Savior, he is ready to say, Amen, to that new Song, “Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever: For thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us, unto our God, kings and priests!” When he looks back on the wilderness of this world, he blesses the believing, patient, despised saints; he pities the ignorant, obstinate, miserable world; and for himself, he says, as Peter, “It is good to be here”; or as Asaph, “It is good for me to draw near to God; for lo, they that are far from thee, shall perish.” Thus, as Daniel, in his captivity, daily opened his window toward Jerusalem, though far out of sight, when he went to God in his devotions; so may the believing soul, in this captivity of the flesh, look towards Jerusalem which is above: And as Paul was to the Colossians, so may the believer be with the glorified spirits, though absent in the flesh, yet with them in the spirit, joying and beholding their heavenly order. And as the lark sweetly sings, while she soars on high, but is suddenly silenced when she falls to the earth; so is the frame of the soul most delightful and divine, while it keeps in the views of God by contemplation: Alas, we make there too short a stay, fall down again, and lay by our music!
§ 31. But, “O thou, the merciful Father of Spirits, the attractive of love, and ocean of delights, draw up these drossy hearts unto thyself, and keep them there till they are spiritualized and refined; and second thy servant’s weak endeavors, and persuade those that read these lines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! O suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant to be a stranger to those joys, which he describes to others; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily breathings after thee, and in a believing, affectionate walking with thee! And when thou comest, let me be found so doing; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with my lamp unfurnished; but waiting and longing for my Lord’s return! Let those who shall read these heavenly directions, not merely read the fruit of my studies; but the breathings of my active hope and love: That, if my heart were open to their view, they might there read the same most deeply engraven with a beam from the face of the Son of God; and not find vanity, or lust, or pride within, when the words of life appear without; that so these lines may not witness against me; but, proceeding from the heart of the writer, may be effectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the reader, and so be the savor of life to both! Amen.”
Glory be to God in the highest; on earth peace; good will towards men.
FINIS