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MEDITATIONS
Upon some TEXTS of SCRIPTURE.
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.
O MY God, how fatally do I experience the truth of this assertion! My heart is indeed deceitful above all things. And how great is my sorrow on the melancholy reflection? Lord, I have by the deceitfulness and wickedness of my own heart, justly forfeited my title to the joys of eternity, incurred thy indignation, and made myself obnoxious to that dreadful sentence, Depart ye cursed! And how just is this sentence, after the crimes my deceitful heart has betrayed me into; after the many good resolutions I have broke; after the sins of ingratitude, presumption, and repining, with which I have defiled my soul! How often have I resolved, firmly resolved, to keep a strict watch over my eyes and heart in the house of God; and let no thought have entrance, which could prevent my addressing my Creator with the reverence I ought? But, merciful God! How contrary have I acted to all this! Have not my eyes been amused by vanity, and my heart so distracted by idle and ridiculous ideas, that I have not known the words my lips pronounced? Nay, have not even unclean and blasphemous thoughts attacked me at this sacred time, and, wretch that I am! been indulged, or but coldly rejected? Horrible proof, that my heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked! Lord, I abhor myself, for having thus often, and thus heinously offended thee! I am utterly ashamed and confounded, at my daring, my monstrous impiety! How shall I dare to hope for pardon of a sin so frequently repeated, and with such aggravations? When I consider the greatness of my guilt, my astonished soul is ready to sink in black despair. Blessed God! I sin against the clearest conviction, against the checks of my conscience, and the kind admonitions of thy holy Spirit; and, strange perverseness! against all the hopes I have of happiness; sin against that God, whom I love and adore from my soul, and whose favour I would this moment lay down my life to procure. The thoughts of immortality, and the surprising goodness of the Almighty, in the works of creation and redemption, fill my mind with gratitude and wonder; I am lost in admiration, and could dwell for ever on the delightful theme. And yet, inconsistent wretch that I am! I go on to offend this divine author of my being, by my careless, supine, and irreverent addresses; and my wicked and fantastic thoughts. My prayers are turned into sin: and now is it not presumption, the highest presumption, to hope for pardon? Or rather, would it not be a greater sin than I have yet committed, to despair of it? Is not mercy the darling attribute of God? It is; and I embrace and adore that mercy: that mercy which is so freely offered to the worst of sinners: that mercy which is made sure to us by the blood of a crucified Saviour. Oh my only refuge! my dearest hope and everlasting confidence! Teach me words to express the sentiments I have of thee, and the abhorrence I have of my guilt. I detest myself, hate my vile ingratitude, and am fully convinced of my own weakness, and the vanity of my best resolutions, without thy assisting grace. Oh grant me that, for the sake of my Redeemer; on that alone will I rely; never more will I trust to the strength of my own reason. I have found, by dear experience, that I am folly and inconstancy itself: without thy aid I am worse than nothing, but with the blessing I implore, I shall be more than conqueror. But is the sin I have now been lamenting, the only instance of the wickedness and deceitfulness of my heart? Alas! it is not: I have innumerable proofs of its treachery; every day, every hour brings some, and gives me new cause for grief and repentance. I resolve frequently, no more to repine at the misfortunes I lie under; no more to look back with discontent, or forwards with distrust. And these resolutions I strengthen, by reflections on the wisdom of God: how much better he knows to chuse for me, than I could for myself; and how unavailing impatience is under ills, I cannot prevent. Then I consider how small my punishment is, in comparison of what I deserve, and should suffer, was not the Almighty infinitely merciful; and what blessings afflictions are productive of, when received with humility and resignation. *And yet after all this, how often do I catch my deceitful heart breathing an impious sigh, and by this secret complaint accusing Providence! How often are my eyes lift up, with a “Lord! why am I thus miserable? Why, while I see all around me gay and prosperous, must I alone be unfortunate, and mourn, without finding one to pity me? What have I done to deserve the being disappointed in every thing I have set my affections on, and deceived by every friend I have trusted?”—With this surprising boldness have I dared to expostulate with my Maker; and yet his mercy still allows me life, and time for repentance. Oh thou adorable Being! may I never more offend thee by a discontented word or thought: but grant that every faculty of my soul, may be in perfect resignation to thy will; and by this resignation, acquire that tranquillity and peace, which all the delights of the earth are not able to give.
Again. I resolve every day to be perfectly easy under every little mortification I may meet in the common occurrences of life. How weak (I cry) is it to be affected by the folly or ill-nature of the world! Why should I regard the sneers of people, whose low sentiments are only deserving pity? Can the unreasonable, and unjust notions of another, rob me of any real merit? Can an envious, a malicious, or a detracting speech, do me any material injury, unless I give it force myself, by my impatience and want of temper? No certainly: nothing from without can hurt me, but by my own fault. A mind fortified with religion, is proof against the darts of senseless tattle, or ill-natured wit. Firm and collected within itself, it smiles superior, and looks down on the ignorant and the malicious with pity.—These reflections are just; and Oh that I could reduce them into practice! But here I miserably fail. *After my soul has plumed herself with these fine notions, and is ready to pronounce herself equal to every trial, she sinks in the most shameful manner. A word, a look, nay the very appearance of a slight, throws me into the greatest uneasiness and confusion; and though I can govern my temper enough to hide it from the world, my heart is ready to burst with indignation. Strange weakness!—But why do I call it strange? Am I not too well acquainted with the fatal cause of this, and almost every sin I am guilty of? ’Tis vanity, that intolerable vanity, which mixes itself with all I act, or speak, or think. When I look strictly into my deceitful and wicked heart, I find it so full of this abominable vice, that I regard myself with horror and amazement; and yet perhaps the next moment, indulge in airy schemes and self-complacency. Sure there is not in the whole universe, so vain and sinful a wretch as I am! What can I hope for? What can I expect? Will not eternal rejection from the presence of God be justly my portion? Oh, thought of unutterable horror! My God! My only hope! Can I think of being for ever cast out from the light of thy countenance, and live? Why does not the dreadful idea at once put an end to my being? All the torments of damnation are summed up in these shocking words—Eternal rejection from thy presence!—Oh gracious and adorable being! let me not be thus beyond imagination cursed. In the name of my blessed Saviour, I implore thy pity! Oh look with compassion on a soul which pants for grace and forgiveness! A soul sensible of her weak and [♦]polluted state, and entirely relying on thy mercy. O speak peace to this troubled sea, and all shall be calm! Give me strength to resist those temptations I so often sink under! But above all, change this wicked and deceitful heart, and give me a new heart and a new spirit. Mortify in me all proud thoughts and vain opinions of myself, and let not the blessings thou hast bestowed upon me increase my condemnation, by being made motives for pride and vainglory. Hear and grant my requests, Oh ever-merciful God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our only Mediator and Redeemer. Amen.
1748.
[♦] “pollued” replaced with “polluted”
Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.