§ 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?