him both conquest and life, and is, of a weapon of offence, turned into a well of water. He that fetched water out of the flint for Israel, fetches it out of a bone for Samson. What is not possible to the infinite power of that Almighty Creator, that made all things of nothing! He can give Samson honey from the mouth of the lion, and water from the mouth of the ass. Who would not cheerfully depend upon that God, which can fetch moisture out of dryness, and life out of death?

CONTEMPLATION V.-SAMSON'S END.

I CANNOT wonder more at Samson's strength, than his weakness. He, that began to cast away his love upon a wife of the Philistines, goes on to mispend himself upon the harlots of the Philistines: he did not so much overcome the men, as the women overcame him. His affections blinded him first, ere the Philistines could do it would he else, after the effusion of so much of their blood, have suffered his lust to carry him within their walls, as one that cared more for his pleasure than his life? O strange debauchedness and presumption of a Nazarite! The Philistines are up in arms to kill him: he offers himself to their city, to their stews, and dares expose his life to one of their harlots whom he had slaughtered. I would have looked to have seen him betake himself to his stronger rock than that of Etam, and, by his austere devotion, to seek protection of Him of whom he received strength: but now, as if he had forgotten his consecration, I find him turned Philistine for his bed, and of a Nazarite scarce a man. In vain doth he nourish his hair, while he feeds these passions. How easily do vigour of body, and infirmity of mind, lodge under one roof! On the contrary, a weakish outside is a strong motive to mortification. Samson's victories have subdued him, and have made him first a slave to lewd desires, and then to the Philistines. I may safely say, that more vessels miscarry with a fair gale, than with a tempest."

Yet was not Samson so blinded with lust, as not at all to look before him: he foresaw the morning would be dangerous; the bed of his fornication, therefore, could hold him no longer than midnight. Then he rises, and, in a mock of those ambushes which the Azzahites laid for him, he carries away the gates wherein they thought to have engaged him. If a temptation have drawn us aside to lie down to sin, it is

happy for us, if we can arise, ere we be surprised with judgment. Samson had not left his strength in the bed of a harlot, neither had that God, which gave it him. stripped him of it with his clothes, when he laid him down in uncleanness. His mercy uses not to take vantage of our un worthiness, but even, when we cast him off, holds us fast. That bountiful hand leaves us rich of common graces, when we have mispent our better store: likeas our first parents, when they had spoiled them. selves of the image of their Creator, yet were left wealthy of noble faculties of the soul.

I find Samson come off from his sin with safety; he runs away lightly with a heavier weight than the gates of Azzah-the burden of an ill act. Present impunity argues not an abatement of the wickedness of his sin, or of the dislike of God. Nothing is so worthy of pity, as sinners' peace. Good is not therefore good, because it prospers, but because it is commanded. Evil is not evil because it is punished, but because it is forbidden.

If the holy parents of Samson lived to see these outrages of their Nazarite, 1 doubt whether they did not repent them of their joy to hear the news of a son. It is a shame to see how he, that might not drink wine, is drunk with the cup of fornications. His lust carries him from Azzah to the plain of Sorek, and now hath found a Delilah that shall pay him for all his former uncleanness. Sin is steep and slippery; and if after one fall, we have found where to stand, it is the praise, not of our footing, but of the hand of God.

The princes of the Philistines knew already where Samson's weakness lay, though not his strength; and therefore they would entice his harlot by gifts to entice him, by her dalliance, to betray himself. It is no marvel if she, which would be filthy, would be also perfidious. How could Samson choose but think, if lust had not bewitched him, She, whose body is mercenary to me, will easily sell me to others; she will be false, if she will be a harlot: a wide conscience will swallow any sin. Those that have once thralled themselves to a known evil, can make no other difference of sins, but their own loss, or advantage. A liar can steal; a thief can kill; a cruel man can be a traitor; a drunkard can falsify: wickedness, once entertained, can put on any shape. Trust him in nothing, that makes not a conscience of every thing.

Was there ever such another motion made to a reasonable man? Tell me

wherein thy great strength lieth, and wherewith thou mayest be bound to do thee hurt." Who would not have spurned such a suitor out of doors? What will not impudency ask, or stupidity receive? He that killed the thousand Philistines for coming to bind him, endures this harlot of the Philistines to consult with himself of binding him; and when, upon the trial of a false answer, he saw so apparent treachery, yet wilfully betrays his life by her to his enemies. All sins, all passions, have power to infatuate a man, but lust most of all. Never man, that had drunk flagons of wine, had less reason than this Nazarite. Many a one loses his life, but this casts it away; not in hatred of himself, but in love to a strumpet. We wonder that a man could possibly be so sottish, and yet we ourselves by temptation become no less insensate. Sinful pleasures, like a common Delilah, lodge in our bosoms; we know they aim at nothing but the death of our soul; we will yield to them, and die. Every willing sinner is a Samson; let us not inveigh against his senselessness, but our own. Nothing is so gross and unreasonable to a well-disposed mind, which temptation will not represent fit and plausible. No soul can, out of his own strength, secure himself from that sin which he most detesteth.

As a hoodwinked man sees some little glimmering of light, but not enough to guide him; so did Samson, who had reason enough left him to make trial of Delilah, by a crafty misinformation; not enough upon that trial, to distrust and hate her; he had not wit enough to deceive her thrice, not enough to keep himself from being deceived by her. It is not so great wisdom to prove them whom we distrust, as it is folly to trust them whom we have found treacherous. Thrice had he seen the Philistines in her chamber, ready to surprise him upon her bonds; and yet will needs be a slave to his traitor. Warning not taken is a certain presage of destruction; and if, once neglected, it receive pardon, yet thrice is desperate.

What man would ever play thus with his own ruin? His harlot binds him, and calls in her executioners to cut his throat; he rises to save his own life, and suffers them to carry away theirs in peace. Where is the courage of Samson? where his zeal? He that killed the Philistines for their clothes, he that slew a thousand of them in the field at once in this quarrel, now suffers them in his chamber unrevenged. Whence is this? His hands were strong, but his heart was effeminate; his harlot

had diverted his affection. Whosoever slackens the reins to his sensual appetites shall soon grow unfit for the calling of God. Samson hath broke the green withes, the new ropes, the woof of his hair, and yet still suffers himself fettered with those invisible bonds of a harlot's love; and can endure her to say, "How canst thou say I love thee, when thy heart is not with me? Thou hast mocked me these three times;" whereas he should rather have said unto her, How canst thou challenge any love from me, that hast thus thrice sought my life? O, canst thou think my mocks a sufficient revenge of this treachery? But, contrarily, he melts at this fire; and by her importunate insinuations, is wrought against himself. Weariness of solicitation hath won some to those actions, which at the first motion they despised; likeas we see some suitors are despatched, not for the equity of the cause, but the trouble of the prosecution; because it is more easy to yield, not more reasonable. It is more safe to keep ourselves out of the noise of suggestions, than to stand upon our power of denial. Who can pity the loss of that strength which was so abused? Who can pity him the loss of his locks, which, after so many warnings, can sleep in the lap of Delilah? It is but just that he should rise up from thence shaven and feeble: not a Nazarite, scarce a man. If his strength had lain in his hair, it had been out of himself; it was not therefore in his locks- it was in his consecration, whereof that hair was a sign. If the razor had come sooner upon his head, he had ceased to be a Nazarite. and the gift of God had at once ceased with the calling of God; not for the want of that excretion, but for want of obedience. If God withdraw his graces, when he is too much provoked, who can complain of his mercy? He that sleeps in sin must look to wake in loss and weakness. Could Samson think, Though I tell her my strength lies in my hair, yet she will not cut it; or though she do cut my hair, yet shall I not lose my strength; that now he rises and shakes himself, in hope of his former vigour? Custom of success makes men confident in their sins, and causes them to mistake an arbitrary tenure for a perpetuity.

His eyes were the first offenders, which betrayed him to lust; and now they are first pulled out, and he is led a blind captive to Azzah, where he was first captivated to his lust. The Azzahites, which lately saw him, not without terror, running lightly away with their gates at midnight, see him now in his own perpetual night,

struggling with his chains; and, that he may not want pain, together with his bondage he must grind in his prison.

As he passed the street, every boy among the Philistines could throw stones at him, every woman could laugh and shout at him; and what one Philistine doth not say, while he lashes him unto blood, There is for my brother, or my kinsman, whom thou slewest? Who can look to run away with a sin, when Samson, a Nazarite, is thus plagued? This great heart could not but have broken with indignation, if it had not pacified itself with the conscience of the just desert of all this vengeance.

It is better for Samson to be blind in prison, than to abuse his eyes in Sorek: yea, I may safely say, he was more blind when he saw licentiously, than now that he sees not; he was a greater slave when he served his affections, than now in grinding for the Philistines. The loss of his eyes shows him his sin; neither could he see how ill he had done, till he saw not.

Even yet, still the God of mercy looked upon the blindness of Samson, and in these fetters enlarged his heart from the worst prison of his sin: his hair grew, together with his repentance, and his strength with his hair. God's merciful humiliations of his own are sometimes so severe, that they seem to differ little from desertions; yet, at the worst, he loves us bleeding; and when we have smarted enough, we shall feel it.

What thankful idolaters were these Philistines! They could not but know that their bribes, and their Delilah, had delivered Samson to them, and yet they sacrifice to their Dagon; and, as those that would be liberal in casting favours upon a senseless idol (of whom they could receive none), they cry out, "Our god hath delivered our enemy into our hands." Where was their Dagon, when a thousand of his clients were slain with an ass's jaw? There was more strength in that bone, than in all the makers of this god; and yet these vain pagans say, "Our god." It is the quality of superstition to misinterpret all events, and to feed itself with the conceit of those favours, which are so far from being done, that their authors never were. Why do not we learn zeal of idolaters? and if they be so forward in acknowledgment of their deliverances to a false deity, how cheerfully should we ascribe ours to the true! Ò God! whatsoever be the means, thou art the author of all our success. "O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and tell the wonders that he doth for e sons of men!"

No musician would serve for this feast but Samson: he must now be their sport which was once their terror; that he might want no sorrow, scorn is added to his misery: every wit and hand plays upon him. Who is not ready to cast his bone and his jest at such a captive? So as doubtless he wished himself no less deaf than blind, and that his soul might have gone out with his eyes. Oppression is able to make a wise man mad; and the greater the courage is, the more painful the insultation.

Now Samson is punished, shall the Philistines escape? If the judgment of God begin at his own, what shall become of his enemies? This advantage shall Samson make of their tyranny, that now death is no punishment to him: his soul shall fly forth in this bitterness, without pain; and that his dying revenge shall be no less sweet to him, than the liberty of his former life. He could not but feel God mocked through him; and therefore, while they are scoffing, he prays: his seriousness hopes to pay them for all those jests. If he could have been thus earnest with God in his prosperity, the Philistines had wanted this laughing-stock. No devotion is so fervent, as that which arises from extremity; "O Lord God, I pray thee think upon me; O God, I beseech thee, strengthen me at this time only." Though Samson's hair was shorter, yet he knew God's hand was not. As one, therefore, that had yet eyes enough to see him that was invisible, and whose faith was recovered before his strength, he sues to that God, which was a party in this indignity, for power to revenge his wrongs, more than his own. It is zeal that moves him, and not malice. His renewed faith tells him, that he was destined to plague the Philistines; and reason tells him, that his blindness puts him out of the hope of such another opportunity. Knowing, therefore, that this play of the Philistines must end in his death, he re-collects all the forces of his soul and body, that his death may be a punishment, instead of a disport, and that his soul may be more victorious in the parting, than in the animation; and so addresses himself, both to die and kill, as one whose soul shall not feel his own dissolution, while it shall carry so many thousand Philistines with it to the pit. All the acts of Samson are for wonder, not for imitation. So didst thou, O blessed Saviour, our better Samson, conquer in dying; and triumphing upon the chariot of the cross, didst lead captivity captive: the law, sin, death, hell, had never been vanquished

but by thy death. All our life, liberty, and glory, spring out of thy most precious blood.

CONTEMPLATION VI.-MICAH'S IDOLATRY.

THE mother of Micah hath lost her silver, and now she falls to cursing. She did afterwards but change the form of her god: her silver was her god, ere it did put on the fashion of an image, else she had not so much cursed to lose it, if it had not too much possessed her in the keeping. A carnal heart cannot forego that wherein it delights, without impatience; cannot be impatient without curses; whereas the man, that hath learned to enjoy God, and use the world, smiles at a shipwreck, and pities a thief, and cannot curse, but pray.

Micah had so little grace as to steal from his mother; and that out of wantonness, not out of necessity; for if she had not been rich, so much could not have been stolen from her and now he hath so much grace as to restore it; her curses have fetched again her treasures. He cannot so much love the money, as he fears her imprecations. Wealth seems too dear, bought with a curse. Though his fingers were false, yet his heart was tender. Many that make not conscience of committing sin, yet make conscience of facing it: it is well for them that they are but novices in evil. Those whom custom hath fleshed in sin, can either deny and forswear, or excuse and defend it: their seared heart cannot feel the gnawing of any remorse; and their forehead hath learned to be as imprudent, as their heart is senseless.

I see no argument of any holiness in the mother of Micah: her curses were sin to herself, yet Micah dares not but fear them. I know not whether the causeless curse be more worthy of pity or derision; it hurts the author, not his adversary: but the deserved curses, that fall even from unholy mouths, are worthy to be feared: how much more should a man hold himself blasted with the just imprecations of the godly! What metal are those made of, that can applaud themselves in the bitter curses which their oppressions have wrung from the poor, and rejoice in these signs of their prosperity!

Neither yet was Micah more stricken with his mother's curses, than with the conscience of sacrilege: so soon as he finds there was a purpose of devotion in this treasure, he dares not conceal it, to the prejudice (as he thought) of God, more

What shall we say

than of his mother. to the palate of those men, which, as they find no good relish but in stolen waters, so best in those which are stolen from the fountain of God! How soon hath the old woman changed her note! Even now she passed an indefinite curse upon her son for stealing, and now she blesses him absolutely for restoring: " Blessed be my son of the Lord." She hath forgotten the theft, when she sees the restitution: how much more shall the God of mercies be more pleased with our confession, than provoked with our sin!

I doubt not but this silver and this superstition came out of Egypt, together with the mother of Micah. This history is not so late in time, as in place: for the tribe of Dan was not yet settled in that first division of the promised land: so as this old woman had seen both the idolatry of Egypt, and the golden calf in the wilderness, and, no doubt, contributed some of her ear-rings to that deity; and after all the plagues which she saw inflicted upon her brethren for that idol of Horeb and Baal-peor, she still reserves a secret love to superstition, and now shows it. Where misreligion hath once possessed itself of the heart, it is very hardly cleansed out; but (like the plague) it will hang in the very clothes, and, after long lurking, break forth in an unexpected infection; and old wood is the aptest to take this fire. After all the airing in the desert, Micah's mother will smell of Egypt.

It had been better the silver had been stolen than thus bestowed; for now they have so employed it, that it hath stolen away their hearts from God; and yet, while it is molten into an image, they think it dedicated to the Lord. If religion might be judged according to the intention, there should scarce be any idolatry in the world. This woman loved her silver enough; and if she had not thought this costly piety worth thanks, she knew which way to have employed her stock to advantage. Even evil actions have ofttimes good meanings, and these good meanings are answered with evil recompenses. Many a one bestows their cost, their labour, their blood, and receives torment instead of thanks.

Behold a superstitious son of a superstitious mother! she makes a god, and he harbours it! Yea (as the stream is commonly broader than the head), he exceeds his mother in evil: he hath a house of gods, an ephod, teraphim; and that he might be complete in his devotion, he makes his son his priest, and entails that sin upor

his son which he received from his mother! Those sins which nature conveys not to us, we have by imitation. Every action and gesture of the parents is an example to the child; and the mother, as she is more tender over her son, so, by the power of a reciprocal love, she can work most upon his inclination. Whence it is, that, in the history of the Israelitish kings, the mother's name is commonly noted; and, as civilly, so also morally, the birth follows the belly. Those sons may bless their second birth, that are delivered from the sins of their education.

Who cannot but think how far Micah overlooked all his fellow Israelites, and thought them profane and godless in comparison of himself! How did he secretly clap himself on the breast, as the man whose happiness it was to engross religion from all the tribes of Israel, and little can imagine, that the further he runs, the more out of the way. Can an Israelite be thus paganish? O Micah, how hath superstition bewitched thee, that thou canst not see rebellion in every of these actions, yea, in every circumstance rebellion! What, more gods than one! a house of gods, besides God's house! an image of silver, to the invisible God! an ephod, and no priest! a priest, besides the family of Levi! a priest of thine own begetting, of thine own consecration! What monsters doth man's imagination produce, when it is forsaken of God! It is well seen there is no king in Israel. If God had been their king, his laws had ruled them; if Moses or Joshua had been their king, their sword had awed them; if any other, the courses of Israel had not been so heedless. We are beholden to government for order, for peace, for religion. Where there is no king, every one will be a king, yea, a god to himself. We are worthy of nothing but confusion, if we bless not God for authority.

It is no marvel, if Levites wandered for maintenance, while there was no king in Israel. The tithes and offerings were their due; if these had been paid, none of the holy tribe needed to shift his station. Even where royal power seconds the claim of the Levite, the injustice of men shortens his right. What should become of the Levites, if there were no king? and what of the church, if no Levites? No king, therefore, no church. How could the impotent child live without a nurse? Kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nurses, saith God. Nothing more argues the disorder of any church, or the

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decay of religion, than the forced straggling of the Levites. There is hope of growth, when Micah rides to seek a Levite; but when the Levite comes to seek a service of Micah, it is a sign of gasping devotion.

Micah was no obscure man: all Mount Ephraim could not but take notice of his domestical gods. This Levite could not but hear of his disposition, of his misdevotion; yet want of maintenance, no less than conscience, draws him on to the danger of idolatrous patronage. Holiness is not tied to any profession. Happy were it for the church, if the clergy could be a privilege from lewdness. When need meets with unconscionableness, all conditions are easily swallowed, of unlawful entrances, of wicked executions. Ten shekels, and a suit of apparel, and his diet, are good wages for a needy Levite. He that could bestow eleven hundred shekels upon his puppets, can afford but ten to his priest; so hath he at once a rich idol, and a beggarly priest. Whosoever affects to serve God cheap, shows that he makes God but a stale to Mammon.

Yet was Micah a kind patron, though not liberal. He calls the young Levite his father, and uses him as his son; and what he wants in means, supplies in affection, It were happy, if Christians could imitate the love of idolaters towards them which serve at the altar. Micah made a shift with the priesthood of his own son; yet, that his heart checks him in it, appears both by the change, and his contentment in the change: "Now I know that the Lord will be good to me, seeing I have a Levite to my priest." Therefore, while his priest was no Levite, he sees there was cause why God should not be good to him. If the Levite had not come to offer his service, Micah's son had been a lawful priest. Many times the conscience runs away smoothly with an unwarrantable action, and rests itself upon those grounds, which afterwards it sees cause to condemn. It is a sure way, therefore, to inform ourselves thoroughly ere we settle our choice, that we be not driven to reverse our acts with late shame, and unprofitable repentance.

Now did Micah begin to see some little glimpse of his own error: he saw his priesthood faulty; he saw not the faults of his ephod, of his images, of his gods: and yet (as if he had thought all had been well when he had amended one) he says, "Now I know the Lord will be good to me." The carnal heart pleases itself with an outward formality, and so delights to