1.HAVING thus laid down the principles of Christian prudence, what remains but to persuade men to the study of it? And the first consideration I shall offer to recommend the study of this wisdom is, that it is attainable. *Many things employ the search of studious men, which, after all, they can never master, but must sit down, if not with a contented, yet with an unavoidable ignorance of. But it is not so with wisdom: the acquisition of this depends not upon great parts, but upon a willing mind. Speculation indeed is infinite, and the well of truth has no bottom, and besides, Many have nothing to draw with. But wisdom, like a fountain, lies open, and within common reach. Some care, and pains, and diligence only it takes to drink of it; an easy price for so precious a treasure. Now this certainty of success is an encouraging motive to search after it in good earnest. Men may seek for silver, and not find it, and search for hid treasures, without being able to break in upon their dark retirements. And yet they search on: how much more should we search for wisdom, when we are sure not to be disappointed in our search?
2. But may we not be so in our finding? Many things are attainable by our labour, which are not worth our labour to attain. But wisdom is not of those; on the contrary, nothing is so well worth attaining. Wisdom it is that keeps the world in order, and makes living in it a blessing, that is the parent of laws, the foundation of government, and the great upholder and sweetner of all society. Wisdom it is that teaches a man how to obey, and how to govern even that ungovernable creature himself: to moderate his passions, to compose his manners, to behave well in all circumstances of life. In a word, that teaches a man to know God and himself, and by the shining paths of virtue leads him to everlasting glory and happiness.
*3. Therefore it is that Solomon exhorts us with so passionate an earnestness, with all thy gettings, get wisdom. As much as to say, whatever thou gettest, or with the expence of all thou hast gotten, get wisdom, as being of infinitely more value than all. It is a pearl of so great price, that the merchant who finds it, will buy it with the price of all that he has. And a wise merchant he is who buys it even at this price, for it can never be bought too dear. Honour and greatness may; nay, and so may the whole world, if the price be a man’s soul. But wisdom cannot; therefore again, Get wisdom, and with all thy gettings, get understanding. If we get wisdom ’tis no matter what else we lose. And if we lose it, ’tis no matter what else we get. And indeed it matters not what we get or lose, so we get that which directs us in the way to happiness, which giveth life to them that have it, and teaches them how to live.
*4. Another consideration to persuade us to the serious study of wisdom, is this, that if we do not now apply ourselves to it, we shall hereafter earnestly wish we had. I know hardly any other study, the neglect of which we shall finally repent of. He that has not studied mathematics, suppose, though he may perhaps sometime while he lives, reflect upon himself with some blame for the neglect of such an accomplishment, yet when he comes toward the concluding scene of life, and that of eternity begins to open, I presume he will not then think this a neglect worth repenting of. And so as to other studies. But he who has not studied wisdom, will then most certainly wish he had, and think it the greatest gain, could he exchange all the sciences he is master of, for this one, the science of life. This is the science that receives our last and best approbation, when other things that make a greater shew and noise, and which perhaps we liked better when we knew less, do not find so great a share in our esteem. Useless notions, and new systems, and fine-spun theories, will not always please us. The days will come when we shall say, we have no pleasure in them. But wisdom will relish with us to the very last, and more at last than ever. When other things leave us, wisdom will stay behind, and more than supply their loss: and when we have outlived the pleasures of the world, then will it be in the greatest esteem with us, as being the only thing of all our acquirements, whose possession and enjoyment too is immortal.
5. When the gaities and follies of life are over (for folly will not always please) when even the more serious entertainments of manhood appear to us as more solemn titles; when covetousness itself, the last folly that forsakes us, because it begins so late, that it often settles upon the dregs of life, as upon a firm and immoveable ground, when even this cleaving folly, shall uncling and drop from us, when the world itself shall be a burden to us; then shall the remembrance of wisdom be sweet unto us, and we shall delight in her conversation, and every step in her ways will give us more comfort than all the little things of the world. Those who have been strangers to wisdom before, will be ready enough to claim acquaintance with her then and to say unto wisdom, Thou art my sister, and to call understanding their kinswoman. But she will not then be so forward to own them. And therefore happy is he that has contracted a friendship with her in the days of his youth and strength, that he may not be disowned by her in that hour wherein he most wants her favour: that he may not have wisdom then to learn, when he should be actually wise, and have the benefit and comfort of her light to guide him through the vale of the shadow of death. In order to which we should always remember that excellent advice of St. Bernard, To rejoice in those things when we are young, which we shall not repent of when we are old.
6. I have now only to add a few prudential advices relating to the practice of a Christian life. Of which the first shall be that of the apostle, To walk circumspectly, that is warily and heedfully, with all possible care, caution and exactness. This is such walking as shews we are duly apprehensive of our condition: the danger of which must be allowed to be exceeding great, since besides our own corrupt nature, and the wickedness of the world that surrounds us, we have the prince of darkness for our profest enemy; even our adversary the devil, who as a roaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. He does not tarry ’till the prey comes in his way, but seeks after it, but walks about seeking who is fit to be made a prey of; whose idleness or whose business, whose temper or constitution, whose age or whose carelesness may give him any advantage. He begins with us very early, laying his siege against us in our very infancy. Then he tempts us with sensible objects, and easily increases our natural propension to them. For reason is then in a dead sleep, and sense altogether awake, being in its greatest perfection, by reason of the fineness of the blood and spirits, and the tenderness of the parts, which easily yielding to the impression of sensible objects, endear them more and more to us, and so confirm that friendship with the world, which is enmity with God. This thoughtless age is succeeded by childhood and youth; and then indeed reason begins to awake; but so slowly, that we are all this time, as it were, between sleeping and waking; the weight still hangs upon our temples. Our passions are much too strong for our weak reason to govern, which accordingly our enemy makes his advantage of, and tempts us with the baits of sensuality, with those youthful lusts which ’tis then hard to fly. This boisterous season also blows over, and is followed by manhood. And now indeed reason is stronger and passion cooler, and so the devil changes his former bait for that of pride and ambition, whereby himself fell, and wherewith he assaulted even the Son of God. Now he lifts us up to, and shews us the grandeur and glory of the world, and tries to persuade us what a happiness it would be, could we make a part of that glittering scene. Well, but neither will this last always; our sun soon begins to decline, and old age comes on, the winter of our year, or rather the evening of our short day. And now our reason grows heavy and sleepy again, and our passions also flag with it, hang their wings, and make our flight nearer the earth, as not being able to bear up in the higher regions. We are now no longer fit for our former entertainments, and having seen what little dependance there is on the world, having lost some of our friends, and proved the insincerity of others, this experience, together with the natural sinking of our spirits, makes us grow timorous, jealous and distrustful, and sollicitous to secure ourselves in this forlorn state, and so we stand fairly disposed for covetousness. And accordingly the devil now draws us into this snare, which reigns the more absolute over us, as having us almost entirely to itself, without competition from other vices. Thus our adversary is always intent upon our ruin, meeting us at every turn of our lives, and suiting his temptations to the several states and conditions of them. And therefore it highly concerns us to walk circumspectly, as knowing both the infinite worth of our souls, and the numberless hazards they are exposed to, from which (next to the grace of God) nothing but an extraordinary caution can secure them.
7. And because these hazards are chiefly from sensible objects, my next advice shall be, To walk by faith, not by sight; to order your conversation not by what you see of this world, but by what you believe of the next. Not to look at the things which are seen, but at things that are not seen; because the things that are seen are temporal, and so do not affect our final state: but the things that are not seen are eternal, and so the proper objects of an happiness that is never to expire. A Christian then ought to keep his eye always fixed on his happiness; to walk continually in view of this his end, and have it before him as near as he can, in every action and word, in every deliberate step of his Christian progress: not to content himself with having referred all he does to it once in general; but to renew and repeat the proposal of it, as often as conveniently he can. Beside the habitual reference of his actions to their end, let every prudent Christian be more and more diligent to have an actual regard to it, as far as is possible, in every step of his life. For the having before us that eternal weight of glory, that crown that fadeth not away, must needs quicken our devotion and inflame our zeal, and inspirit us with new life and vigour in the running our Christian course, and help us with ease to overcome all those vain impediments, which the world, the flesh and the devil throw in our way. Nothing shall be able to separate us from our end, or turn us out of the right way to it, if we keep our eye intent upon it, and have it in our view all the way of our Christian walk. For indeed the excellence of it is so transcendent, that nothing of this world can stand together with it, or shine in its light, any more than a feeble star can shine in the presence of the mid-day sun. The greater light swallows up the less; we must lose the one before we can be dazzled with the other; we must intermit the view of our chief good, before any other can appear considerable enough to tempt us.
[♦]9. And now we are got into the right way, there is no better means of fixing ourselves there, than to keep toward the middle of it, pretty far within the lines, so as not to tread upon the edges: not to go to the outside of what is lawful, but rather to set ourselves in all our actions at the greatest distance from sin, by abstaining from all the appearances and beginnings of it. But chiefly from the beginnings. The full accomplishments of wickedness we have a horror of. But we have not the same dread of the beginnings, and of the things that have a tendency to gross crimes. So we are easily persuaded to begin; and when we have once made an entrance, the progress grows easier and easier. For the next degree being but a degree beyond it, carries as little horror in it as the first; and so the next to that, being a degree farther, carries the like appearance: and so the rest that follow, we measuring every degree not (as we should do) by all the preceding ones which it contains, but only by the last, which it immediately exceeds, considering it only as a degree farther than that, and so as a small thing, till by degrees we slide unawares into the commission of those sins, which looked frightful, and would have choaked us in the lump, but being thus taken by piece-meal are easily swallowed.
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*10. And no wonder, since the first liberties we take, the first approaches we make to any sin, inflame our passions, raise our appetites, which were before quiet, and increase our desires of the forbidden object. So that our talk is now harder than it was at first, and we might much easier have forborn the whole, beginning and all, than forbear making a further progress, when we have once begun. And why should we make our duty more difficult and painful than it is? Therefore the wisest way is, not to begin; that being true of all sin, which Solomon observes of strife, The beginning of it is as when one letteth out water, which is easily prevented from running at first, but being once let out, the passage grows more open, and the stream more difficult to command. Therefore, says he, Leave off contention before it be meddled with, i. e. Do not meddle with it at all, it being much easier to have nothing to do with it, than to govern yourself in it. They that once begin, are insensibly carried to do what at first they never designed, and then vainly complain, that God did not preserve them from falling, when they placed their own feet on slippery ground.