‘Thirdly, Consider that this is no new thing; if any soul hath escaped out of darkness, if he will have heaven, he shall have it with as much trouble, as the devil can lay on; but, blessed be God, he cannot pluck us out of these almighty arms.’
His love to Christ and souls, made him very desirous to spend, and be spent in the work of the ministry. Accordingly he complied with the first clear call to preach the everlasting gospel. And though he was but two and twenty years old, yet he came to that work like one that understood what preaching was. He was a workman that needed not be ashamed, that was thoroughly furnished for every good word and work; one that hated sin with a perfect hatred, and loved holiness with all his soul; one that knew the terrors of the Lord, and how to beseech sinners in Christ’s stead to be reconciled unto God: one, in whom learning and holiness did as it were strive which could excel. He never preached publicly but twice; but he came to it, as if he had been used to it forty years; delivering the word of God with that power and majesty, with that tenderness and compassion, with that readiness and freedom, that it made his hearers amazed. He spoke nothing to others but what was the language of his heart, and the fruit of great experience, and which one might easily perceive had no small impression first upon his own spirit.
His first and last sermons were upon communion with God, out of Job xxii. 21. A subject that few Christians under heaven were better able to manage than himself: for he did for some time maintain such an intimate familiarity with God, that he seemed to converse with him as a friend with another. This he began whilst he was here: but the perfecting his acquaintance with God, was a work for another world.
He kept an exact watch over his thoughts, words and actions, and made a review of all, at least once a day. He kept a diary, in which he set down every evening what the frame of his spirit had been all the day, especially in every duty. He took notice what profit he received; what returns from that far country; what answers of prayer, what deadness and flatness, and what observable providences. He set down the substance of what he had been doing: and any wanderings of thoughts, or passion. It cannot be conceived by them who do not practise this, to what a good account it turned. This made him retain a grateful remembrance of mercy, and live in a constant adoring of divine goodness; this brought him to a very intimate acquaintance with his own heart; kept his spirit low, and fitted him for free communications from God; this made him more lively and active; helped him to walk humbly with God; and made him speak more affectionately and experimentally to others of the things of God. In a word, this left a sweet calm upon his spirits, because he every night made even his accounts; and if his sheets should prove his winding-sheet, it had been all one; for his work was done; so that death could not surprize him.
CHAPTER V.
An account of the latter part of his life.
FOR the latter part of his life, he lived like a man that was quite weary of the world, and that looked upon himself as a stranger here, and lived in the constant sight of a better. He plainly declared himself but a pilgrim that looked for a better country, a city that had foundations, whose builder and maker was God. His habit, his language, his deportment, all spoke him one of another world. His meditations were so intense, long, and frequent, that they ripened him apace for heaven. Few attain to such a holy contempt of the world, and to such a clear, joyful constant apprehension of the world that is to come.
He made it his whole business to grow into an humble familiarity with God, and to maintain it. And if by reason of company, or any necessary business, this was in any measure interrupted, he would complain like one out of his element, till his spirit was recovered into a delightful, unmixed, free intercourse with God. He was never so well satisfied, as when he was more immediately engaged in what brought him nearer to God; and by this he constantly enjoyed those comforts, which others rarely meet with. His graces and experiences toward his end grew to astonishment. He was oft brought into the banqueting-house, and there Christ’s banner over him was love. His eyes beheld the king in his beauty: he had frequent visions of glory, and lay in the bosom of his master. He was even sick of love, and could say to the world, O taste and see! And to Christians, Come and I will tell you what God hath done for my soul. O what do Christians mean that they do no more to get their senses spiritually exercised? Little do people think what they slight, when they are formal in secret duties, and when they neglect that great duty of meditation. Did they but know the thousandth part of that sweetness that is in Christ, they could not choose but follow him hard; they would run and not be weary; and walk and not be faint.
In the midst of all worldly comforts he longed for death; and the thoughts of the day of judgment made all his enjoyments sweeter. O, how did he long for the coming of Christ! Whilst some have been discoursing by him of that great and terrible day of the Lord, he would smile, and humbly express his delight in the forethought of its approach.